


The Lovers

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-22 16:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kurusu just keeps pursuing him—aggressively, persistently, and Goro can't understand why.Goro doesn't know it yet, but it will change him.





	1. Initiation

 

It began with just a text.

**I saw you on TV again today.**

It seemed he was the kind of texter who used perfect spelling and punctuation in every text. Which was nice. Goro found chat slang to be obnoxious as hell.

Though it had only been a couple days since, Goro had nearly forgotten that he'd given Kurusu his phone number at the TV station. He'd initially planned to ingratiate himself with Kurusu slowly and naturally, arranging coincidences where they would run into one another and such, for the sake of monitoring his activities. He hadn't expected that Kurusu would just straight-up ask his number. Even most fans weren't that bold, and Kurusu hadn't come off like a fan.

Things had been quite hectic that day, and Goro didn't normally text anyone (anyone important would call), so he didn't notice Kurusu's message until late that night, when he finally got home to his apartment, flopping down onto his futon on the floor so he could put off going to sleep by fiddling with his phone.

Well, it would be best to reply, to keep up the impression of civility. **Oh, you were watching? That's a surprise. I didn't take you for a fan.**

Goro was startled when the reply came less than a minute later. **I like to keep up on any news related to the Phantom Thieves.**

 _I bet you do,_ Goro thought to himself. **So you're hate-watching me?**

 **I wouldn't say that,** was his instant reply.

**So what would you say?**

**Well, I'm just curious about you.**

How forthright of him. Well, it was usual enough to be curious about a celebrity. **I promise, I'm not that interesting.**

**You seemed pretty interesting when we talked at the station.**

**I'm good at talking** , Goro replied.

**I could tell.**

Goro hesitated. He wasn't really sure how to reply to that. But the next message from Kurusu came quickly. **We should hang out sometime.**

Well. This was convenient enough. It seemed he wouldn't have to contrive a situation in which he could get close to Akira Kurusu—he was walking right into his lap. _Fame has its perks, I suppose._

 **Sure** , he agreed.

**Do you like ramen?**

Goro did, in fact, quite like ramen. So he replied honestly, **I do.**

And somehow, they arranged to meet the pretty much immediately, the next day after school, to go for ramen.

 _Is this going too well?_ Goro wondered as he put down his phone and turned out the light.

x x x

The next day, in Ogikubo, Goro arrived five minutes early to find that Kurusu was already outside the ramen shop, waiting for him.

“I'm sorry, I hope you weren't waiting long,” Goro said, jogging up to him.

“No, not that long,” Kurusu said, but judging by the amount of sweat beading on his face and soaking in his uniform shirt, he had to have been standing out under the hot June sun for a while. “Let's go in,” he jerked his head to indicate the door. “It's boiling out here.”

At the ticket machine, they made their orders—or rather, Kurusu stood at the machine and asked what Goro wanted, punched it in as well, and paid for the both of them.

Goro protested, holding out the six hundred yen, but Kurusu shook his head. “It's okay. I'll pay.” Goro was a little confused about this, but decided if it was free food, he would take it.

They handed their tickets to the chef and took seats side-by-side at the bar. Goro had just picked regular miso ramen, but Kurusu seemed to have particular tastes: tonkotsu ramen with extra-thick broth, noodles on the hard side, lots of vegetables, and extra sheets of seaweed on the side. And then when the ramen came to their table, he loaded on shichimi so thick, the broth turned red.

When Goro tactfully chose not to comment on this, Kurusu said, “You're not saying anything, but I know you think this is weird.”

Goro laughed. “Aha-ha. Well, you certainly seem to have unique tastes.”

“Everyone says that. Except usually they use words like _weird_ or _gross._ It's good, though. Try some.” Kurusu used his ceramic spoon to dip out some reddened broth and proffered it out for Goro.

Kurusu was so smooth and convincing about it, it wasn't until Goro had slurped down the broth that he realized he'd just been spoon-fed by another boy in a public restaurant. Eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed them, his momentary embarrassment overpowered the flavour of the shichimi, and somehow, it didn't taste as ridiculous as he had initially assumed.

“Okay, that wasn't so bad,” Goro conceded, and Kurusu grinned.

“Right? This is the _right_ way to eat ramen,” he declared, and started digging in like a hungry teenager.

Goro ate with a little more decorum, but he was still pretty hungry, and neither of them said anything else until both their noodles were gone. Kurusu drank all his broth, too.

“That's a lot of salt, you know,” Goro commented.

Kurusu put down his bowl with a satisfied thunk. “It's fine. I'm young. I can handle it. And besides, you drank most of yours.”

This was true. Goro hated wasting food. It was just hard to finish a whole bowl and the broth, too. “I can't argue that.” He set down his china spoon and laid his hands in his lap. “So why invite me out here today?” Kurusu seemed like the straightforward type, so this should be the best way to approach him.

“I told you, I'm curious about you,” Kurusu said. “I want to get to know you.”

This was at least the fifth time Kurusu had said something that had startled Goro, and he was not enjoying the feeling of being repeatedly caught off-balance. “What's there to know?”

“Well, for starters, now I know you like miso ramen, and you don't finish all your broth. This tells me that you have mature tastes and a reserved personality. But you picked out your green onions instead of just asking for none to begin with. This means you're still kinda childish, and also have trouble asking for what you want.”

“Aha-ha. You got all that from a bowl of ramen?”

Kurusu waved his hands. “No, that was bullshit, sorry. But it sounds good, right?” He gave Goro a disarming grin.

Goro laughed at that a little more sincerely than usual. “It sounds like you got it from a TV variety show or something.”

“Oh, no,” Kurusu put one elbow on the counter and leaned his face on his hand, head turned toward Goro. “I'm just good at reading people.”

The sharp look Kurusu gave him made Goro believe that was quite true. _Too bad for you, I'm good at fooling people._ “That's a skill I could envy,” Goro said instead. “I've always been bad at figuring out what people are really thinking.”

“Well, I'm not psychic,” Kurusu shrugged a little. “And half of it is just paying attention. Everyone's sending out silent messages, all the time. Everyone has things they want to communicate, but can never say. You just have to want to listen.” Kurusu gave him a soft smile, and for some reason, it made Goro a little uncomfortable, and he looked away.

“I have something to go to after this,” Goro lied, “so I can't stay long.” He stood up, taking his briefcase.

“Then I'll see you again,” Kurusu said with the sort of bold certainty could win just about any girl over. Yet again, Goro found himself taken aback by this boy.

“Yes, I'll see you another time,” Goro agreed without thinking much about it, and quickly left.

x x x

It was not long after that when the first incident occurred. When Goro was in a Palace, heading out to deal with some low-level scum, during an encounter with some shadows, right when he'd just about killed all of them, a tiny one squeaked, “Wait!” and fluttered to the ground in a pose of submission, face pointed downward and hands outstretched. It looked like a pixie. “I surrender! Don't hurt me! Let me join you, instead!”

Goro was shocked. This hadn't happened for years. When he'd first come into his powers, he'd realized that he was capable of taking all sorts of shadows into himself as personas, and he had done so, figuring they would be an asset to him—until he'd discovered the price to be paid for using any persona besides Robin Hood or Loki.

So he calmly shot the pixie in the head and watched her dissolve into formless black. But this was unsettling. He'd thought for certain that, with the right mental state, he could block out the intrusion of any other personas—and he'd been doing just that for quite some time.

Something was wrong.

x x x

It was hardly a few days later when Kurusu invited him out again, and Goro couldn't come up with a reason to refuse.

This time, the location was Ichigaya, and when Goro came five minutes early, he found Kurusu again had come before him and was holding two fishing rods.

“Fishing?” Goro said, blinking, but he took a rod, hesitating only a moment when their hands touched.

“Yeah. It's a hobby of mine,” Kurusu said as if he were a little embarrassed. “It seems like something an old man would like, doesn't it?”

“Ramen is something an old man would like,” Goro said dryly.

“Ha!” Kurusu pointed at him. “Are you secretly actually really snarky?”

“Aha-ha. I don't know what you're talking about.” But Goro settled down next to Kurusu on a crate, and Kurusu showed him how to put on the bait and the basics of sending out and reeling in the line, and then they both sat down and waited.

“So what were you doing the other night?” Kurusu asked suddenly. “You didn't reply to my text until the next day, so I figured you were busy with something.”

That “other night” was the night when Goro had been killing a certain man's shadow inside his palace. But there was no way Kurusu could have known that. Suspecting he knew would be pure paranoia. His question must have just been motivated by innocent curiosity.

“Oh, nothing much. I just don't check my phone all that often,” Goro said. The latter half of that statement was true.

“Not much of a texter?” Kurusu asked.

“Not at all, honestly,” Goro admitted.

“Nobody to text?”

That was a little bit _too_ straightforward. Goro's hands tensed on his fishing rod. “Aha-ha. I'm not the most social person in the world, no.” He smiled at Kurusu, and turned the conversation away from himself. “I get the impression you have lots of friends.”

“I do now.” Kurusu seemed like he was about to say more, but he got a bite on the line. “Ohh!” he cried, and started reeling. He spent a couple of minutes in what seemed like a pretty wild battle with this fish—only to have it escape from him.

He slumped in failure, and Goro laughed at him, a little bit nastily. “You're not actually very good at this, are you?”

“Hey,” Kurusu said. “I'm learning.” He reeled back in his line to attach a new bait to it, then threw the line back into the water. “You can't catch every fish. But keep trying, and you get it eventually.”

“How very shounen manga hero of you. Keep doing your best and one day, you'll catch a Legender, Musashi.”

“Is it just me,” said Kurusu, tilting his head a little to look over at Akechi, “or are you getting more snide by the minute? And you're _so_ polite on TV. ...Also, wow, ancient reference.”

Goro opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. Kurusu was right. He was acting snarky, and very unlike himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this openly snide with anyone. It wasn't a very likeable trait.

“I like snarky Akechi, though,” Kurusu said with a grin. “You're allowed to put me in my place, any time.”

Goro rolled his eyes, then caught himself doing it, and looked away. And changed the subject. “The had the whole series at the school library when I was in elementary school,” he said.

“Huh?”

“ _Grander Musashi_ ,” Goro turned back to Akira with a pasted-on grin. “So that's about the extent of my fishing knowledge.”

“Just so you know, there's actually no such thing as a Legender.”

“I think I knew that already,” Goro said in a pleasant tone that just rode the edge of sarcasm and sincerity.

“Though hey. They say there's a big fish here that comes out sometimes when it rains. So maybe that's close enough,” Kurusu said. “Did you read anything else from the school library in elementary school?”

Goro thought back. He'd read just about everything worth reading in that library. “Oh, a few things. I don't remember much of it now.”

Kurusu gave him a look, but didn't press him. “Do you like reading?”

“Do you like fishing?”

“Do you like avoiding questions?”

“Do you like asking them?” Goro was realizing that Kurusu was quite serious when he'd said he wanted to get to know Goro, and he was making a concerted effort to wheedle random bits and bobs of personal information out of him. Goro did not like how much he'd already given up.

“I like hearing your answers,” Kurusu replied. “Even when they're evasive.” Then he turned back to the water, and neither of them spoke again until it was time to call it a day.

It was only once they'd parted ways that Goro realized that Kurusu had paid for him again.

x x x

The third time Kurusu invited him out, they went to Odaiba. It was a rather touristy choice, but entertaining enough. They spent a lot of time strolling around the Venus Fort. Goro had been there once, a long time ago, but had never really taken his time looking around, so it was interesting, at least. The European-style architecture with its high, vaulted ceilings, the fountain courtyard with the statues, and all the lighting came together in a rather jarring experience that reminded him oddly of a palace—and one belonging to someone with particularly bad taste. It was strange to be in a place like this in the normal world, and stranger still to be in this sort of atmosphere with another person.

Kurusu was as outgoing and vibrant as ever in a way that was frankly starting to make Goro sick, pointing out this and that thing, _oh, isn't that interesting,_ or _how about look at that, Akechi_. Goro couldn't help but be swept along.

“Look at this, Akechi!” Kurusu said in one store, shoving something in his face. It was a stuffed cat. A black one, with little black button eyes and a derpy look on its face.

“It's a stuffed cat,” Goro commented blandly.

“I know! Isn't it cute?” Kurusu gave it a squeeze and his expression turned to one of bliss. “I love cats. I have one myself. A black one. But I think this one looks like me.” He lined it up beside his face to display for Goro. “Don't you think?”

Looking at the features of the animal, strangely, Goro agreed. There was something about the shape of its head and the set of its eyes that evoked Kurusu's face, mysteriously. Goro couldn't help but give a tiny smile. “You know, you're actually right.”

“Right?!” Kurusu seemed blown away by this fact. “It's cute, isn't it?”

“Yes, it's cute,” Goro admitted, and he saw a sneaky smile crawl up Kurusu's face in response.

“...So you're saying I'm cute.”

“...” Goro could feel heat rising in his face, and his brain hadn't really caught up yet to figuring out what he was so embarrassed about.

But before he couldn't sort himself out, Kurusu spun around and went to the cash register with the stuffed cat. A couple minutes later, Kurusu returned to dump the plushie into his arms. “Here.”

Goro was sincerely confused. “...Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you think it's cute.”

Goro really didn't know what to say to that, so automatic reaction kicked in. “Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“You're welcome,” Kurusu beamed back at him.

Goro hadn't brought his briefcase that day (it would be a pain to carry around, so he'd dropped it off at home) and so he ended up just carrying around the stuffed cat as-is. Kurusu had apparently refused a plastic bag. How environmentally conscious of him.

It wasn't until that evening, when the bridge and Ferris wheel were both sparkling with multicoloured lights and they were sitting together in a box on the rising Ferris wheel with the stuffed cat Kurusu had bought him in his lap that he started to feel like something was strange.

“Kurusu,” he said, and the other boy turned away from where he'd been looking out at the view to focus on Goro. “Why do you keep paying for things?”

The look Kurusu gave him in response started at embarrassment and moved toward determination. He looked straight at Goro and said, “Because that's what you do when you ask someone on a date.”

Silence.

What.

“I-I mean,” Kurusu stuttered, clearly nervous. “I-if you're not into that, it's cool, I was, you know, just getting a certain vibe from you, but if I'm wrong...”

Suddenly, Goro was hyper-aware of not only this situation, but everything that had led up to it. He'd slurped ramen broth off Kurusu's spoon! Never in his life had he imagined he'd be the sort of person to get worked up about something so stupid and nonsensical as an indirect kiss, but now he was getting worked up about it. And that moment when their hands had touched, when Kurusu had passed him the fishing rod. And then just earlier that day, when Kurusu had said, _so you're saying I'm cute,_ and Goro had immediately started thinking about just how cute he was.

 _Oh, my god._ He stared straight ahead, not trusting himself to look at Kurusu yet. Then, after a few breaths, he turned around with a controlled smile and said, “You're not wrong.” His face was probably still bright red, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Kurusu brightened at that, turning around in his seat to fully face him. “I thought so,” he said, laying his hand over Goro's on the bench, and Goro froze in response, looking across at Kurusu.

Kurusu was leaning in slow, asking permission with his eyes. But Goro really must have looked like a deer in the headlights, as he pulled away again. “Sorry. I guess I kind of sprung this on you. I thought I was being obvious.”

In retrospect, he really had been. Goro was boggled by his own blindness. “Have I really seemed so...” he paused, brushing back his hair nervously. “Obviously interested?”

Kurusu grinned back at him. “Oh, yeah. You're constantly staring at me. You reply to my texts instantly. The way you talk to me, it's pretty obvious you've warmed up to me fast. You keep coming to hang out with me on zero notice. You sometimes—”

“I think I get it,” Goro cut him off with an icy smile, rather horrified at himself for doing all of this completely unawares. He hadn't had a crush on anyone since he'd been ten years old. He'd honestly figured that was something he'd just outgrown. And now, at the ripe old age of eighteen, he was sitting here with a boy he'd met very recently and planned to kill not too far in the future, heart racing, blushing like an idiot. He was absolutely humiliated.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, both of them facing front, Kurusu's hand still over his.

Thoughts whirled around in Goro's head. Well, this wasn't so bad, really. Functionally speaking, he'd accomplished his goal of ingratiating himself with Akira Kurusu. Kurusu was infatuated with the person Goro presented himself as, which was convenient. It was good for Kurusu to trust him as much as possible. So he should play along with this. It might make killing Kurusu when the time came a little more unpleasant, but nothing more.

He was just playing along. That was all.

Kurusu's hand was still on top of his. Goro pulled it away, and when Kurusu turned toward him in response, Goro grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him.

The kiss was awkward, and Goro's heart was in his throat the whole time, his eyes squeezed shut. He would sooner spit out teeth than admit this was his first kiss. He wasn't going to let Kurusu lead him along by the nose—he would be in control of this, at least. He forced Kurusu's mouth open with his tongue, and Kurusu opened to let him in, leaning forward into the kiss.

Goro broke it off and looked back at Kurusu. He had a rather stupid grin on his face, not unlike the stuffed cat Goro was still holding in his left hand, and was red and panting. Goro realized he was, too.

That was when Goro suddenly realized that the Ferris wheel was just about at the bottom, and he jerked his face away.

Getting off the Ferris wheel, Goro wanted to hide his face. He hadn't been thinking about it getting on, but now that he was getting off, he was sure people were staring at them. Staring at two boys together on the Ferris wheel. He avoided looking at any faces as they walked away and toward the train station.

When they finally parted ways in front of the station gates, Kurusu had such a stupid grin on his face, Goro was irritated to distraction by the way that look tried to pull a similar look out of him, too. He found himself, of all things, deliberately scowling in an act of defiance.

“That's a good look on you,” Kurusu said with a playful bop on the shoulder. “You don't have to smile at me.”

Of course, him saying that just made Goro smile at him, instead. “See you later, Kurusu.”

“Call me Akira,” he replied. “And can I call you Goro?”

Hearing him say that kind of felt nice. And he hated that it felt nice. “...Yeah,” he heard himself mumble awkwardly.

x x x

When Goro returned to his tiny one-room apartment that night, he flung the stuffed cat across the room angrily, and it made an unsatisfying _boof_ sound on the wall.

He felt like such a fool. Kurusu was playing him. Totally playing him. Goro had been able to tell that he was the kind of real charismatic figure—not the fake, manufactured TV “charisma” Goro pretended to have—who would draw people to him. Goro had seen him the day they'd met, with his friends. He was a natural, through and through. And Goro was being totally played by that A-grade smooth talker.

He'd been fully aware from square one just what sort of person Kurusu was. What sort of things he could do. He'd walked in meaning to manipulate Kurusu, only to find that Kurusu's hooks were in him instead.

Replaying that evening in his mind, each moment was a humiliation. Kurusu catching him off his guard, again and again. Kurusu getting under his skin. He'd bought him a fucking stuffed animal and taken him up the Ferris wheel like—like his girlfriend.

His mind had been replaying the same loop of thoughts over and over and over on his way back, with each successive loop spiralling into something worse.

The guy couldn't be for real, could he? What sort of character takes another guy on a Ferris wheel date without even—without even knowing if he was into guys, or anything? Was this some kind of elaborate prank? It wasn't as if he had anything to gain from such a cruel prank, but it was hard to explain it as anything else. Or maybe it wasn't so much as a deliberate, mediated prank, but just his own form of idle entertainment.

It wasn't as if he even had the slightest idea of who Goro really was, anyway. He was probably just an idiot who'd gotten himself infatuated with the manufactured image of a celebrity.

This version of events seemed to fit the best, settling hard into Goro's stomach as he sat down in his desk chair, meaning to check something on his computer before he went out again. He pushed open the laptop, turned it on, and stared at it as he waited for it to boot up.

He zoned out for a solid five minutes, and his computer went back into sleep mode again.

_Fuck._

His mind kept flashing back to the Ferris wheel, that kiss. How he'd wanted to do so much more.

Goro gave in, unbuckled his belt, and pulled his erection out of his now uncomfortably-tight pants, closing his eyes. He had to do this, or he'd be distracted all night.

He'd never imagined a real person before, while masturbating. He'd watched porn, or zoned out and thought about nothing. There was something different about his, something inherently shameful about mentally undressing someone he knew for his own sexual pleasure. He wondered what Kurusu would think if he knew that Goro was doing this. He wondered what Kurusu would think if he knew that Goro was going to kill him.

He came, and it was more of an emptying than a completion.

_I'm just playing along._

x x x

Goro had to go out right after that. He had an assignment that night: a certain politician Shido wanted conveniently eliminated. There had been a point in time when Goro would have asked exactly what this man was doing and why Shido wanted him dead, but he really didn't care anymore—he didn't want to know. Having intimately witnessed the personal distorted worlds of dozens of sick and twisted people, he had come to understand that at the core, they were all the same, and it didn't matter who they were. The world would miss none of them.

What was different this time was that on the way through the palace, he kept running into the same sort of shadow—resembling a woman with dancing fans. If he failed to kill her immediately, she would fall to her knees and beg for mercy, beg to join him—and each time, he would shoot her down.

So she looked human, so what? These things were so easy with Loki. A lot of things were easier with Loki.

He didn't know why this kept happening. But it was grating his nerves raw.

Slicing the man's shadow in half made him feel better, but not much.

When had killing first started feeling good to him? He didn't even remember.

x x x

After that, it was a sort of dance. Goro moved one step back, Kurusu took two steps forward. Goro couldn't vanish from Kurusu's life entirely. In a way, ironically, Goro's scheme to gain Kurusu's trust meant that Kurusu held him hostage. He could turn down one, two, three dates, making excuses about being busy, but he had to give in, eventually.

Could Kurusu tell how many of his excuses were lies? Goro had no idea. He'd always been so bad at reading people.

And so there were more dates. Sometimes for dinner after school. There was curry, then Big Bang Burger. Once Kurusu discovered that Goro had a sweet tooth, they went to Sweets Paradise, and that was a (wonderful) disaster. Goro's stomach was not ready for all-you-can-eat sweets (his mouth said yes, but his stomach said no). And Kurusu always insisted on paying. Which, frankly speaking, Goro was grateful for, since he was broke as fuck (the government allowance for orphans was small, most of his detective and TV work was paid only in exposure, and the rent was too damn high), but he had to wonder where Kurusu got all that money.

“I have a part-time job,” Kurusu explained, leaning back against the booth wall at Sweets Para. “At a flower shop.”

“A flower shop?” Sitting opposite him at the booth, Goro's eyebrows went up.

“Yeah. It's really nice, actually. The store atmosphere is really calming, so even when there's a lot of work, it's hard to feel stressed. You should come by sometime. I'll pick a nice arrangement out for you.”

Goro was privately impressed at the way Kurusu really didn't seem to care what people thought of him. Most teenage boys would probably be self-conscious as hell about working at a flower shop, and they'd probably make excuses for it, like _it's only 'cause they happened to be hiring!_ Or _I just hope it'll help me get a girlfriend!_

But like every time Kurusu impressed him (which was often) the feeling came laced with a side serving of envy and self-loathing. How could he not care what kind of looks people gave him? Frankly, just sitting here at a dessert restaurant with another guy made the back of his neck crawl in the sort of way that made him crank up his smile three notches. Goro couldn't stop glancing over at the other people in the restaurant or at people passing by their seat to go to the washroom. Were they looking? That one fucker just smirked at him. _What._ What? _It's none of your business._ He wondered if they recognized him. _Fuck._ He hoped not.

He didn't want to be seen with Kurusu.

“Let's go,” Kurusu said, standing up. “This place is getting crowded.”

Goro jumped a little. Had he been zoning out? And had his discomfort been that obvious? “Sure,” he said, following Kurusu out of the restaurant and down the stairs to street level.

“Why don't we go to your place?” Kurusu said nonchalantly, once they were outside again. “You said you live not too far from here.”

Internally, Goro choked a little. That was right. He had. And he'd told Kurusu he lived alone, too.

“Oh!” Kurusu suddenly started waving his hands in a _no_ _no no_ gesture and blushing. “I don't mean like— Uh, I mean, you just seemed like you wanted out of the crowd. So I figured we could chill better at your place.” Then he winced. “And when I say _chill,_ I don't mean...”

Goro had to laugh at his stuttering awkwardness. “Don't worry about it. I'm not uncomfortable about that.” And that much was true. He figured he could bullshit his way through sex somehow—and at this point, he wanted it pretty badly. And sex was just sex. What was bothering him was the idea of Kurusu seeing his apartment. He didn't want Kurusu seeing any more of him than was absolutely necessary. And he didn't let anyone see his apartment, as a rule.

“I'd rather go to your place,” Goro muttered, feeling a little red in the face.

“It's kind of far,” Kurusu said. “Your place is way closer. Come on. What's the big deal?” He smiled in that friendly, disarming way of his that Goro hated. That smile always pushed Goro into doing things. That smile reminded him of how fake his own smiles were.

“...Fine,” Goro said, regretting it even as he said it. Maybe it was his dick talking, here. He'd been simultaneously avoiding dates with Kurusu while also beating off to thoughts of him every night, and he was fully aware of how pathetic this was on every level, and it just made him hate Kurusu even more.

x x x

So they went to Goro's apartment. It was in a shitty building in a shitty block of apartments in a shitty part of town: a little 1K with a sink and a hotplate, toilet and shower, a desk, and a futon on the ground. His things were haphazardly thrown into the single closet. It was sort of messy, but he didn't have enough possessions to really make it a real disaster. But the stack of empty cup ramen packs overflowing from the garbage told a sad tale.

It didn't really fit the image of the Detective Prince.

“About what I expected,” Kurusu said, upon stepping in.

Goro was surprised and unnerved that Kurusu had expected this, but also slightly suspicious that Kurusu was bullshitting. “Why?” he asked, as he kicked his shoes off, not bothering to line them up neatly. Kurusu, however, did set his shoes aside neatly as well as Goro's, which was very mom-like and kind of irked the shit out of him.

Done arranging his shoes, Kurusu stood to give Goro a practised _please, honey_ sort of look with a finger wave that looked very...okama. Where had Kurusu learned that one? ...Whatever, it didn't matter. “Goro, you're a teenage boy living alone. This is the expected standard.”

The use of his first name raised his hackles. He regretted saying Kurusu could use it. “I like to project a more...put-together image,” he said as he put down his briefcase on his desk and pulled off his gloves and his blazer, which he hung up properly in the closet. His uniform was the one thing he did care about.

Standing by the kitchen counter, Kurusu gave him a look. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Goro stared back at him. The smile was starting to leak off his face.

“I get that you want to show off this image of perfection. But you don't have to be perfect.”

Goro replaced his waning smile with a harder, colder version that would stand up to more severe attacks and took a threatening step toward Kurusu. “And what makes you think you understand me?”

Kurusu winced. It seemed he realized he'd said the wrong thing—but he wasn't backing down. “So what? Are you actually perfect, then?”

Goro was mad enough that he didn't laugh this off with a fake smile and fake modesty. “I attend one of the most prestigious schools in Tokyo. My grades in every subject are stellar. I'm an accomplished detective at the age of eighteen, and a TV celebrity. I'm good-looking, charming, and everybody loves me. If that's not perfect, then what is?”

Instead of the cowed or awkward expression that Goro expected, Kurusu just looked sad. “Do you think your life is perfect?”

That sad look—that _pity_ —more than anything else, made rage boil in Goro's stomach. This conversation was over.

Goro took another step forward, grabbed him by the shirt and slammed their mouths together. Kurusu seemed startled, but sank into it, letting Goro take the lead as Goro tugged off Kurusu's blazer and started unbuttoning his shirt with impatient hands. Kurusu returned the favour, and unbuttoned his shirt to slide warm hands over his sides.

Shirts discarded on the floor and chests pressed together, Goro could feel Kurusu's heart was pounding just as hard as his, and lust started pushing other his other thoughts into a corner of his mind where they wouldn't interrupt this. Kurusu's lips were crushing, his body was warm, his hard cock was pressing against Goro's thigh, and Goro didn't want anything else.

As they kissed, Goro fumbled to undo his belt and pants, then broke away to look at Kurusu and say, “Suck me off.”

Kurusu fell to his knees before him without hesitation.

Kurusu took him in his mouth slowly, starting at the tip, but Goro didn't have the patience for this. He grabbed Kurusu by his thick, curly hair and thrust into his mouth, revelling in the little sound Kurusu made in response.

Goro fucked his face, and Kurusu took it calmly, letting Goro's dick slide far back in his throat and maintaining firm suction without so much as a protest. Knowing Kurusu was experienced in this, knowing there had been others, made Goro's hands fist in his hair tight enough that Kurusu visibly winced at the pull.

Then Kurusu looked up at him, mouth over Goro's pumping dick, and that look undid him. Goro barely managed to stay on his feet as he shuddered into Kurusu's mouth, and Kurusu's eyes remained open and watching the whole time as he swallowed Goro's come.

Goro looked away.

Kurusu's mouth slid off his dick, which he neatly tucked away back in his underwear and gave a little pat as if to say, _there, done._ Then he stood up, wrapped his arms around Goro's neck and said, “Care to return the favour?”

In lieu of response, Goro turned them around and pushed Kurusu down to sit on the edge of his desk chair. Kurusu undid his own pants and belt, and Goro leaned over him to sink his lips down around Kurusu's cock, taking in as much as he could.

Kurusu's dick was warm and salty in his mouth, Kurusu's breathing loud in his ears. Goro pushed Kurusu's cock back as far as he could, but when Kurusu jerked a bit in response, Goro couldn't help but gag a bit.

“Use your hands on the base,” Kurusu murmured. “You don't have to take the whole thing at once.”

Goro felt himself flush an even deeper red. It was obvious he was inexperienced, wasn't it? Spitefully, he bit down on Kurusu's dick.

“Ow!” Kurusu jumped in his seat, and Goro's spite backfired as Kurusu's cock choked him and he pulled away, sputtering.

Kneeling in front of Kurusu, Goro looked off to the side. “Whoops, I'm sorry. I just have no idea what I'm doing, so I accidentally bit you.”

Kurusu snorted, and it took Goro a moment to realize he was laughing. “You're mean.”

“You just realized that?” Goro leaned his cheek against Kurusu's knee. Every moment he spent with Kurusu, he became more and more disappointed with himself for acting this way around him. Why was it so much harder to maintain a smile around him? Why did he keep allowing his nastier impulses? He was supposed to be ingratiating himself with Kurusu. Gaining Kurusu's trust. Getting Kurusu to like him.

This wasn't likeable.

“It's okay. It's kinda hot,” Kurusu said, and he reached out and stroked Goro's hair.

That gesture, and being in this position, kneeling at Kurusu's feet, was sickening to Goro in ways he couldn't express, but simultaneously, he found it impossibly hard to move from the spot. Kurusu combed his fingers through Goro's hair slowly, over and over, sometimes stroking his face lightly, and Goro found himself closing his eyes, leaning on Kurusu's knee for support, and just enjoying the touch.

His mind came to a halt, and there was only Kurusu, his warmth, and his slow, gentle strokes.

x x x

Goro jolted against Kurusu's leg and realized that he'd fallen asleep for a few moments. He pulled back and rubbed his face.

“You can just have a nap if you want,” Kurusu said. “You've seemed kind of sleepy and zoned-out today.”

Had it been that obvious? Evidently, it had. _Well, I was up late murdering last night, Kurusu. Sorry I'm too sleepy to suck your dick properly._

“I'm fine,” Goro said, standing up. “Just a little tired.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kurusu stood up with him, grabbing his arm. “You're tired. You're allowed to have a nap. Come on.” He tugged Goro toward his messy and unmade futon on the floor, and Goro didn't resist when Kurusu shoved him down on it. He frankly did want a nap. He'd been holding it off all day with coffee, but now his eyelids were sagging.

They shot open again, however, when Kurusu started tugging Goro's socks off, and then his pants. “What are you doing?” Goro asked.

“You'll get your slacks all wrinkled if you sleep in them,” Kurusu said sensibly, and Goro couldn't really argue with that. So he let Kurusu take his pants off, and Kurusu went to hang them up neatly in the closet beside where Goro had left his blazer, and then without giving Goro the time to argue, he shucked off his own pants and socks and squeezed onto the futon together with him.

Arguing at this point would just make him look petty, and he really did want a nap, so Goro just rolled over, facing the wall, and let Kurusu do as he pleased.

Kurusu wrapped his arms around Goro from behind and snuggled up close, and Goro was too tired to hate it.

x x x

When Goro woke up, it was dark outside the window, and Kurusu wasn't with him. He rolled over to see Kurusu dressed, tying up a garbage bag in the kitchen.

“Did you...clean my apartment?” Goro mumbled, pushing off his pillow. The mess on his desk was neatly stacked, the dirty clothes on the floor were all folded in a pile (who the heck folded dirty laundry?!), his overflowing kitchen trash had been swapped out for a new bag, the junk on the kitchen counter was put away, his dishes were washed, it smelled like the floor had been mopped, and he suspected if he were to peek into the bathroom, he'd discover the toilet had been cleaned, too.

“I couldn't really fall asleep so early, so I figured I should put the time to good use.” Trash bag in hand, Kurusu looked a little sheepish. “I separated your trash...” he pointed, and indeed, Goro noticed he'd separated the paper, plastics, burnable and non-burnable. Goro always just tossed it all into burnable and hoped nobody noticed.

“You'll make a good wife someday,” Goro said sarcastically, with an impeccable smile.

“Aww, thanks!” Kurusu, however, took it as an unironic compliment. Probably deliberately. Then he came over to Goro and gave him a peck on the cheek. “It's really late, so I've gotta go. I'll take the trash with me on the way out. See you.” He scampered off, grabbing the various bundles of garbage on the way, and was out the door.

Goro sat there for a moment, feeling a little stunned.

He got up and walked around, investigating Kurusu's handiwork. The place was really spotless. And yes, he had cleaned the toilet.

After a full inspection, Goro thumped down hard in his chair and let his face fall on the desk. The stuffed cat Kurusu had given him, which had been kicked thoughtlessly underneath the desk, was now placed in the seat of honour, sitting right in front of his face.

_Why are you doing this?_

_Why are you so kind to me?_

_Stop._

 


	2. Isolation

Goro was so used to meeting Kurusu alone, with just the two of them, he had nearly forgotten the kind of person Kurusu was.

One day during his morning commute, Goro happened to see Kurusu walking through the station with a girl—Makoto Nijima. It was startling to see them together. And he found himself stopping and staring. People bumped into him and pushed past him as he blocked the flow of traffic, and eventually, he was forced to walk again. But he used the crowds as cover, avoiding the both of them as he watched them out of the corner of his eyes.

They were smiling. Makoto didn't usually smile much around her sister, or Goro—she was the serious type, through and through. Makoto said something Goro didn't catch, and Kurusu laughed. That was when Goro looked away and let the crowds carry him through the station.

x x x

**Sorry, I can't see you for a while,** came the text. **Exams.**

**It's okay. I need to focus on studying, too,** Goro replied.

**I'll miss you!**

Goro didn't reply to that.

x x x

Goro didn't hear from Kurusu much over the next little while, and what few messages he did receive, he ignored. He would excuse himself later.

With more and more detective work and TV appearances coming to him and Kurusu constantly bothering him, Goro had been letting studying slide—which in retrospect was incredibly stupid. His scholarship was contingent on his grades, and he couldn't afford to blow any major exams. So the next week was spent in a fervour of round-the-clock studying. At least it was a distraction.

One it was finally over, Goro figured he would reward himself by going to the fireworks festival that would be held on Marine Day. It was an excuse to get out of his apartment, at least. One of his TV appearances was being aired that day, and he wanted to stave off the temptation to watch it. Obsessively watching himself on TV was a bad habit of his and a horrible waste of time.

So he cycled down to the spot near the water where the fireworks would be happening, somehow found a place to lock his bicycle, and joined the flow of people pouring into the viewing area.

The streets were packed when he arrived at the street that had been cordoned off for the event, the crowds making the night even sweatier. Goro had dumped his typical sweater-vest and was wearing a light dress shirt—hell would freeze over before he'd be caught dead in a T-shirt—but it was still sweltering.

When the first burst went off, for some reason, Goro found himself wondering if Kurusu was somewhere in the crowd, watching the fireworks. Kurusu hadn't messaged him in a few days, and hadn't ever mentioned the fireworks. Not that Goro would have expected that. Maybe he'd come with his friends. There would probably be a whole group of them, the girls in yukatas, maybe some of the boys wearing them, too, showing off their cookie-cutter department-store fashion, chattering brainlessly about school, going _ohhh_ and _ahhh_ over the sort of fireworks display that every single one of them would have seen more than a dozen times before.

Goro wasn't really paying attention to the fireworks anymore.

It was funny how you could be surrounded by thousands of people and be totally alone.

When it started raining, the crowds quickly started filtering out, but Goro resisted the streams of people bumping past him and stayed put where he was. It wasn't like a little rain was going to kill you, and it was warm enough. He'd come all the way out here, so he was going to see the fireworks.

In fact, he was thankful for the rain driving away the crowds. Finally, he had some space, and the rain was cooling. The fireworks went on. Goro stared determinedly up at the sky until the very end, along with a sparse few prepared souls who had brought umbrellas and were standing huddled underneath them.

He hadn't really been paying attention to the fireworks. But at least he'd stayed until the end. He was soaked, now, but not cold.

On the way home, some stranger offered him a convenience store umbrella, which Goro turned down politely. Couldn't that idiot see it was too late for umbrellas?

x x x

Fame had changed Goro's experience at school in some ways, but not in others.

Before, he'd been largely invisible, living on the fringes of the social hierarchies within the class. He was unassuming enough, inoffensive enough, and good-looking enough to generally avoid being target of bullying, but nobody ever really spoke with him, either. The cool kids thought he was too quiet, the losers thought he was too full of himself, and he'd never really seen much point in trying to talk to other kids, anyway. So he would quickly bolt down some melon bread or whatever and then spend his lunches in the library reading, and after school, he would stay in the library some more until it closed and they made him leave. He'd never wanted to join any clubs. They were a waste of time.

And though these days, he went out more for work, his habits hadn't changed that much. He still spent his lunches in the library, but now, occasionally, he would hear people behind the bookshelves whispering about him. He did make it his business to know what they said. It was generally predictable nonsense: _oh look, isn't that Goro Akechi? He was on TV. Now that he's famous, I suddenly think he's so cool, even though I treated him like he was invisible for years!_

There had really been an uptick in love confessions from girls since he'd gotten on TV. He'd been getting the odd one fairly frequently since middle school, but now they were practically every month. It was the most ridiculous bullshit imaginable. Girls who had hardly ever spoken two words to him would suddenly come up to him and give him things he didn't want or confess their feelings out of the blue. What did they think would happen?

They were all so shallow, it made him sick.

And it seemed today would be another one of those days: a girl with a friend as her backup had ambushed him in the hallway after school, placing him in the position where he was forced to reject her.

“I'm sorry,” Goro said to her, with his best TV smile on.

The girl in question, a girl with a timid-looking bob and a regulation-length skirt, seemed to have expected this and was ready to back down, but her friend (who had doubtless put her up to this) was more stubborn.

“Mina is a really good girl!” the pigtailed girl took a firm step forward to say. “You should give her a chance! Get to know her!”

Normally, Goro would have come up with some appropriate lie about being too busy, or just not being interested in dating. These excuses generally weren't seen as valid, however, and inevitably, this would cast him as a cruel character who broke girls' hearts.

Of course, he couldn't tell them the real reason he always turned down girls.

But this time, a new, more convenient lie came to his lips. “There's someone I like,” he told her. “So I'm sorry...I don't want to go out with anyone else.”

The pigtailed friend seemed surprised, but accepted this response.

Goro wondered how long it would be before this news spread around the whole school. Not like it mattered.

x x x

Not long after exams, Goro's homeroom teacher called him to the teacher's office after school to talk.

“It's still not to late to apply for university,” she said, rolling chair turned away from her paper-stacked desk to face where Goro stood in front of her.

“I've already made up my mind,” Goro said firmly.

“A university education will benefit you in law enforcement, or as a detective,” she insisted. “It opens so many doors for you. And it would be a waste for someone like you not to go.”

Goro just shook his head.

“There are plenty of financial aid options, plus scholarships that are well within your reach. It's not as impossible as you think it is.”

This wasn't the first time Goro had had this conversation with his teacher. She was just getting desperate because the deadline was close. He'd made all the excuses already. He had a career. University was too expensive. Real experience was more valuable than class time. Detective work didn't leave him the time for cram school or exam prep.

But the truth was, he just really didn't want to go. He didn't give a shit about his future. His entire life was an arrowhead pointing to the election at the end of the year, and after that, there was nothing. Never in his life had he envisioned being an adult.

It wasn't as if he had concrete plans to kill himself then (though he had entertained the thought), it was just hard to think about anything further than a few days ahead. Sometimes, a single day would stretch into eternity, an agonizingly slow slog through mud that just went on and on and on.

Only the days he spent with Kurusu seemed to go by at a normal rate.

In the end, his teacher stuffed some booklets and pamphlets for various schools and programs into his arms and made him promise to read them and consider them, which he did (insincerely) before he was finally freed.

x x x

Goro continued to ignore Kurusu's texts for a solid week after exams. He avoided even reading them. This didn't get them out of his mind, and he couldn't afford to avoid them forever, but for the time being, he just couldn't look at them.

That was when Kurusu showed up very suddenly at the front gates of his school.

To say he was shocked was an understatement. It was late (though still bright outside, being the middle of summer), and most of clubs had already called it a day and gone home. Goro hadn't had any detective work to do that day, so he'd done his usual thing and spent after school reading at the school library until it closed. There was no reason Kurusu should be waiting around in front of the school gates at this hour. There certainly wasn't anyone else around.

But there Kurusu was, waving cheerfully when he saw Goro approach.

“What are you doing here?” Goro asked, stunned.

“Waiting for you,” Kurusu answered.

“For how long?” Goro asked.

“Not that long,” Kurusu answered, and that had to be the biggest lie Goro had ever heard out of him. “Come on, let's go. There's somewhere I want to go first, before we go back to your place.”

He wasn't saying anything about Goro ignoring his messages. He was assuming they would go back to Goro's place together. He just took Goro's hand and pulled him along, and Goro followed.

It turned out that the place Kurusu wanted to stop by was the grocery store, where he bought potatoes, carrots, and other assorted vegetables, shirataki, and pork. When they arrived at Goro's apartment, Kurusu also pulled what seemed to be spices and some other cooking staples out of his bag—plus a huge pot that looked like it had just barely fit in there (why did he have such a large bag, anyway?). He must have brought them from home.

“I'm going to make curry,” Kurusu announced. And he did.

Goro felt awkward just standing there, so he rolled up his sleeves and helped chop potatoes. The knife he had on hand was, according to Kurusu, total garbage, dull as shit, and made chopping everything extraordinarily difficult. Goro was also terrible at chopping, which made it worse.

“You'd think you never chopped a vegetable in your life!” Kurusu was appalled at the sight of Goro's butchering of the potatoes, which involved slamming the knife down onto the potato at odd angles with both hands.

“I don't think I have,” Goro said after a little consideration. “Ever chopped a vegetable in my life, I mean.”

Looking quite domestic in a green apron (one he'd brought himself) and wielding a peeler, Kurusu said, “Are you serious?”

“Quite serious. At institutions, they never let you do anything, and foster families are generally advised not to let children have access to knives or other dangerous objects. For obvious reasons.”

Kurusu seemed a little startled, and Goro realized he hadn't told him about all that. “Oh, did I not tell you? It's no secret, so I tend to assume everybody knows. My mother died when I was very young, so I grew up being bounced from foster home to foster home.”

“I assumed something was up with your parents, seeing as—” Kurusu waved at the apartment. “What about your father?”

This was a story Goro had explained to practically every single person he'd ever met since the age of five, so it was automatic, all emotionality wrung out of it through force of repetition. When you deviated from the norm, you always had to explain yourself. Over. And over. And over. “She was his mistress, and he abandoned her and drove her to suicide.”

“I'm sorry.”

Goro _hated_ it when people said that. Dozens, hundreds of thoughtless, mannerly apologies from people who didn't really give a shit had made absolutely nothing better about his life.

“It's fine,” he responded automatically. Though it really wasn't. But that was the only answer people wanted to hear.

Goro returned to chopping, one messy potato at a time. There wasn't much room on the kitchen counter, and he didn't have any kitchen table, so Kurusu stood in front of the sink peeling potatoes, where there were two bowls of potatoes in the sink, one peeled, and one peeled and chopped, while Goro chopped on a cutting board on the counter space.

“...!” Goro winced when a particularly ill-advised chop led to him slicing his index finger. Considering his (lack of skills) this was probably inevitable. He looked at the finger, watching the blood bead out the cut and then drip down onto the cutting board.

“Ahh! I told you to cut away from yourself!” Kurusu fussed, and then, as if it were absolutely the natural thing to do, he grabbed Goro's hand and slid his whole finger into his mouth.

As was becoming a pattern now, whenever Kurusu surprised him, Goro just stood there and let it happen, staring at him. Kurusu caught him staring and grinned around his finger, then slid Goro's finger in and out of his mouth slowly in a deliberately sensuous manner before popping his lips off again and saying, “Don't you have any band-aids?”

“In the bathroom cabinet,” Goro muttered, thoroughly distracted and wishing Kurusu would continue, but Kurusu went off to the bathroom cabinet instead, returning to bandage up Goro's finger like you would do it for a small child, giving it a little kiss when he was done.

“You've sure got some hardcore stuff in the cabinet,” Kurusu commented as he went back to the peeling.

“Oh, the SSRIs?” Goro said mildly. “They're all expired. I haven't used them for years. I don't like the side effects. I should throw them out.” They suppressed his personas, particularly Loki. And besides, the metaverse had done more for him than any shrinks or drugs ever had. It wasn't nearly as bad now as had been before.

“I meant the suture kit and all the bandages...I noticed before that you have some scars.”

Goro silently cursed. In the heat of moment, he really hadn't been thinking about how incriminating his scars would be. Loki's specialty was in stealth, so things could have been a lot worse, but years of fighting through palaces had left visible marks all over his body. He was strong enough now that he didn't have any fresh wounds at the moment, though injury was always a possibility.

He was at a crossroads: pass it all off as self-harm, or abuse. Either of these had an element of truth, but anticipating the look of pity Kurusu would give him for it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Goro settled for the most truthful answer. “I don't want to talk about it.”

And surprisingly, Kurusu said, “Okay,” and left it there.

Though cutting up the carrots and potatoes seemed to take forever, the rest of the cooking went a lot quicker, and within an hour or so, the curry was ready. Kurusu served out the rice and the curry into a couple of bowls and, since there was no table and Goro only had one chair, they sat facing each other on the floor by Goro's bed, cross-legged, to eat.

“This is actually really good,” Goro said quite sincerely, and he started spooning the curry down faster.

“I told you I make good curry!” Kurusu said proudly.

“My hat is off to you,” Goro said between mouthfuls.

“How long has it been since you last had a home-cooked meal?”

Kurusu hadn't prodded him about the incriminating material in his bathroom cabinet, so Goro was feeling generous enough to answer. “Around the second year of middle school? I spent a few months at an institution before they found a new family for me. Institutions always cook decent food for you, at least.”

“When did you start living on your own?”

“When I started high school. I would have left earlier, but legally, you have to live with a guardian until then.” Goro didn't mention that this was around the time he first Robin Hood and Loki, practically simultaneously. It had been incredibly exhilarating—being in control of everything for the first time in his life.

“You don't find it hard, living alone?” Kurusu asked.

“Not at all.” Goro put down his quickly-emptied bowl. “I like being alone,” he said with a smile, and then stood up. “I'm going to get seconds.” All he'd had to eat that day was a convenience store sandwich for lunch, and he was starving.

Kurusu joined him to ladle out seconds for himself as well, and they returned to the floor with their bowls.

“So you don't cook,” Kurusu said, halfway through his bowl.

“I don't really see the point. You can eat just fine from convenience stores.”

Kurusu covered his face in his hands in exaggerated horror. “Don't say that!”

“Was that an uncomfortable truth?” Goro said dryly.

“No!” Kurusu smacked his spoon-fist on the flooring, his other hand occupied with his bowl. “Cooking is something everyone needs to do! Cooking is love! A poor cook is a poor lover!”

Goro's eyes dropped to his bowl. “Guess that explains me.”

Kurusu blushed. “I didn't mean—it's just a saying. I just mean...you should take better care of yourself.” He stirred his spoon around in his bowl of curry, looking down at it. “I mean...I can't feed you every day...I can try, but...”

Goro couldn't help chuckling a little. “Have you been trying to fatten me up?”

“You're really skinny! Your body fat percentage has to be in the negatives!”

Goro snorted. “I've gotten by this far. I think I'll be fine.” He took another bite of curry, chewing on a big chunk of pork, then swallowed. “But...thank you. For cooking for me.”

Kurusu gave him a whole-hearted, beaming smile that made Goro's heart ache. “Any time.”

x x x

For all that Kurusu loved to pry about Goro's life, he very smoothly and sneakily avoided ever talking about himself. Goro had learned more about Kurusu from his own private information-gathering than Kurusu had ever divulged himself.

Goro knew that Akira Kurusu lived in an attic above a cafe owned by Sojiro Sakura, a former civil servant and acquaintance of Sae's. Goro knew he had a criminal record and was essentially on probation, and he also knew the names of some of the other students he was known to hang around—he'd personally seen him together with Ryuuji Sakamoto and Anne Takamaki, other students at Kurusu's school, at the TV station, and had since caught sight of him in the company of Makoto Nijima.

He was fairly certain at this point that all of these people, and perhaps others, were part of Akira Kurusu's group of Phantom Thieves. But the best way to nail down his suspicions would be to catch them all together. So he arranged to bump into Kurusu on the subway on a day when he anticipated he would be with his friends.

And voila. Success. All the faces he'd predicted were present, plus one Yusuke Kitagawa, former student of Madarame. Interesting.

They all seemed close.

How much time did Kurusu spend with all of them?

Just looking at them herding together in a group like sheep made Goro feel sick with disgust.

“Nijima! What are you doing here?” Goro called out to Makoto Nijima in affected surprise.

“Akechi...” Makoto turned around to look at him, and the others did, too.

“I didn't know you all were friends with Nijima,” Goro lied smoothly.

“Akechi.” Sakamoto grunted his name, blatantly antagonistic.

_You really should try harder to pretend you're not a Phantom Thief,_ Goro thought to himself.

“Do you know this guy?” Kitagawa asked Kurusu.

“We met at the TV station,” Kurusu explained. “This is Goro Akechi.”

For a split second, Goro expected Kurusu to perhaps say more.

But of course not. Aha-ha. Why would he say anything more than that? No reason. No reason at all.

Goro took some pleasure in calmly letting them know that Medjed had declared war on the Phantom Thieves while needling them all subtly about their identities, just to make them sweat, until he decided it was time to take his leave.

“Well, this has been a valuable point of reference for me,” he said, with just a glance at Kurusu. Kurusu's expression was unreadable. “I hope to see you all again.” And then he spun around and left at a measured pace, keeping his walk very carefully brisk and definitely not, definitely not running away.

x x x

Goro didn't bother going home after that. Instead, he headed for the palace of Okumura, next target. It was a little early to be killing him, but he wasn't going for the boss today. No, he was just going in to kill some shadows, let off some steam and get out.

_Slice, slice, bang. Slice, slice, bang_. This was the kind of therapy you couldn't pay to get. Goro especially enjoyed killing the human-shaped ones—they were always more satisfying.

And the great thing about shadows was that there was always more. You could make a bunch of them go berserk and stage a little shadow war, sit back and watch the opposing forces, or just wade in madly and slaughter at random. More would always pop up for your amusement.

Imagining the faces of people he loathed (and the list was long) as he killed shadows was a favourite pastime. When he'd first come into his powers, he'd figured he should just kill everyone who pissed him off, and had begun with the foster family that had made his life a living hell in his third year of middle school, but he'd quickly realized that it was probably unwise, since would bring undue attention to himself. It was wiser to get straight to the root of them problem—which was to say, Masayoshi Shido—than to stomp on every single ant that had ever stung him.

And so, rather than sitting in class with a smile plastered on his face as he fantasized about running through the room with a sword beheading classmates as the others begged for mercy (a fantasy that had occupied much of his time in middle school), there was this.

This was just particularly satisfying, since he knew that soon enough, he really would be killing Akira Kurusu.

x x x

Goro returned home feeling significantly better. He'd glanced at his phone on the train ride over and noticed a missed call and a couple of texts from Kurusu, but he ignored them. Whatever Kurusu said didn't matter. He didn't want to hear it.

Taking his shoes off, he went straight to the fridge and opened it up to pull out the pot of leftover curry that was still there. Kurusu really had made a ton of it, and it was taking a while to finish it all.

Goro took off the lid and carried the pot over to the garbage can, and started tipping it over, but then hesitated.

His stomach grumbled.

This was really juvenile. He was hungry, and this curry was good. Throwing it out would be a waste.

So instead, he took the big pot, ladle still in it, over to his desk, sat himself down, and started eating it cold, out of the pot, with the ladle. He was out of rice. He was hungry, and didn't want to bother heating it up. And it was good enough like this, anyway.

For the first time in a long time, Goro wished he was capable of crying. Those feelings had been wrung out of him a long time ago. He remembered that at some point in the past, it had made him feel better to cry. Now there was just this hollow feeling as he slurped cold, congealed curry.

He'd given up trying not to think about Kurusu. Kurusu was all he could think about. And Goro was honest with his own feelings, if nothing else.

_I hate you, Akira Kurusu._

 


	3. Intrusion

Goro blocked Kurusu on LINE, so Kurusu started sending SNS messages, forcing Goro to block his number, too. Goro caught sight of him loitering around the gates of his school once (Goro smoothly avoided his notice) and he buzzed Goro's apartment at least twice (Goro pretended to be absent. He was rarely at home, anyway).

Goro realized that this was probably counterproductive to his future plans, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He spent a solid few weeks staving off Kurusu and focusing on other things, like looking into the backgrounds of the Phantom Thieves besides Kurusu. He was curious to see how they would deal with “Medjed,” as this would be the turning point in their reputation.

When the Phantom Thieves finally defeated Medjed, Goro was elated, but also frustrated that he'd been unable to track any of their activity during this time. Goro knew who “Medjed” was, and that hacker's palace had been left untouched. So Goro was forced to assume that one of their members or allies was a hacker themselves and had defeated Medjed through more mundane means than palace invasion. None of the allies of Kurusu's that Goro had met thus far had any computer skills to speak of. So was there someone else?

He had to go directly to Kurusu to get more information.

He really wasn't looking forward to this.

On a sweltering, muggy day in late August, Goro took the train to Leblanc Coffee Shop to see Kurusu in his natural environment and pick up some leads.

Pushing open the door to the cafe, he saw some customers, Kurusu, Sojiro Sakura, and—was that Wakaba Isshiki's daughter? Upon Goro's entrance, she skittered behind the counter to join Mr. Sakura and Kurusu behind the bar.

An uncomfortable feeling swam around in the bottom of his stomach. That hadn't been an enjoyable kill. Just a necessary one. But he couldn't afford to feel sympathy for anyone. Her presence was useful information—nothing more.

He avoided looking at her as he smiled at no one and particular, saying, “Hello.”

“Welcome,” Mr. Sakura greeted him.

“Oh!” Goro said, feigning surprise at seeing Kurusu there. “Fancy seeing you here. A friend recommended this place to me, so I decided to check it out.” He sat himself down at the bar, setting down his briefcase, and he could practically feel Kurusu's eyes boring holes into his head, but Kurusu didn't say anything.

“I'll have a medium latte,” Goro said, passing Mr. Sakura some cash.

“Coming right up,” said Mr. Sakura, and he gave Goro his change. “Do you two know each other, Akira?”

“Oh, we've just run into each other a couple of times, here and there,” Goro said brightly, carefully not looking at Kurusu. Kurusu still didn't say anything. “I'm Goro Akechi,” he introduced himself. “Sae said this place had a great atmosphere, and she was right.”

When he brought up Sae's name, Mr. Sakura seemed disgruntled, but before he could say anything, Kurusu cut in. “Goro.”

Goro turned toward him. “Oh, I'm not sure how I feel about being on a first-name basis, though. Aren't you younger than me?”

Turning toward him was a mistake. The look in his eyes froze Goro in place.

Before Goro could even react, Kurusu had shoved past Mr. Sakura to stand in front of Goro, behind the bar. He grabbed Goro by the knot of his tie, yanked him forward and leaned in to kiss him on the lips—in full view of everyone in the cafe.

Goro's eyes widened in shock, looking at Kurusu's face with his eyes screwed shut as he kissed him. After a moment, Kurusu let go of him and pulled back, and Goro was left sitting there, red-faced and confused.

“Goro,” he said. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have avoided talking about you. I was surprised.” He gnawed on his lower lip a bit. “I was afraid of being judged. I don't like revealing things about myself to people. But I hurt you. I'm sorry.” He sounded like he'd practiced that about a hundred times in the mirror. Goro was finding it hard to breathe.

The Kurusu turned around to Sojiro and Wakaba Isshiki's daughter, who were both looking rather gobsmacked, and announced, “Goro is my boyfriend.”

That word stabbed Goro straight in the gut. He had to laugh. “Aha-ha.” He raised a hand to his face, then carefully brushed back his hair, composing himself. “This is the first time you've said that word.”

“Well, isn't that what we are?” Kurusu turned back to face him. “Boyfriends? Goro?”

It was just too funny. Goro laughed again, and felt a bit sick doing it. “Yes, I suppose we are...Akira.”

Kurusu—Akira circled out from behind the bar, sliding past Mr. Sakura and Wakaba Isshiki's daughter, ditched his barista apron, and came in front of Goro to take his hand. “Come upstairs. We should talk. I'll grab your coffee for you when it's done.” Akira grabbed Goro's briefcase in his other hand, and tugged Goro out of his seat.

Feeling weak, Goro helplessly let himself be led upstairs.

x x x

Akira's attic was...nice. Hot as hell, being a second floor attic (and only the cafe downstairs was air conditioned), but lot more spacious than Goro's own apartment, and cleaner. It had a sort of antique chic to it, instead of just being shitty, like his own place. Goro was immediately hit by a wave of jealousy. It seemed like a place you'd actually want to live in, invite people to. And he didn't even have to pay rent for it.

He found himself looking at all the strange knick-knacks on Akira's shelf, wondering where they had come from.

“Those were mostly gifts,” Akira told him. “Just random stuff from friends.”

Goro suddenly realized that he had never given Akira anything. Their entire relationship had been based on him take, take, taking.

_And I'll keep taking, right until the end,_ he thought, bitterly. _I'll take all the most important things you have._ “It looks like you have a lot of friends.” That came out sharper than he'd meant it to.

“None of them are as important to me as you,” Akira said firmly, and wrapped his arms around Goro from behind.

Goro wished he could really, sincerely believe that. But he knew himself too well. He knew he was a jealous fuck who would hate all of Akira's friends for taking Akira's attention away from him (though he certainly didn't deserve anything from Akira), while simultaneously hating Akira for having all those friends. He didn't say anything.

“I mean it,” Akira said, squeezing tighter.

Goro decided to change the subject. “I wish you hadn't done that.”

“Done what?”

“Kissed me in front of everyone.” Goro could feel himself tensing in spite of himself. “I know I'm a hypocrite. I was furious at you for pretending you didn't know me. But—” his throat felt tight. “I would do the same to you.” _I hate being seen with you. I can't stand the way people look at us. I don't want your friends to know about us. But being your dirty secret hurts, too._

Akira leaned his face on Goro's shoulder. “I know. You always seemed uncomfortable when we were in public together. I'm sorry. I know you have a public image to maintain. I just—” he didn't finish. “I'll make sure Futaba and Sojiro don't tell anyone. I don't like revealing things about myself, either.”

He had said that before, in the cafe. Goro said, “You practically know my life story,”—except for the important parts—“but I hardly know anything about you.” Aside from all the things he'd looked into himself. But that was beside the point. Goro pulled out of the hug to turn around and face Akira.

Akira looked ashamed and awkward. Not something Goro had seen him reveal before. He was fidgeting with his hands. “All my relationships tend to be...one-sided. I like to get to know people. I draw everything out of them, eventually. But...” He sighed, backed up, and flopped onto his bed. “I don't even do it consciously. I just don't want people knowing who I am.”

Hearing him say that was almost a physical pain. Goro did not want to feel any more emotionally connected to Akira Kurusu. He didn't want to have anything in common with him. But there was no fighting it now. All he could do was enjoy this little bit of sick make-believe while he could.

“So then who are you?” Goro asked, standing in front of where Kurusu lay, upper body splayed out on the bed, eyes pointed up on the ceiling.

“I...” Kurusu started, then stopped. “I don't know.” Goro said nothing, just stood there and waited for him to continue.

“I am whoever people want me to be. Whatever people want me to say, I say. I can tell what people want, and I do it. Not even out of a desire to manipulate them. Just because I can't do anything else.”

Goro covered his face with a hand and laughed a dry laugh. “I've always wanted to be just like that, you know.”

Akira sat up off the bed, looking at him. “Why?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Goro flung his hand away in an angry gesture. “Why wouldn't I want to be exactly what everyone wants? I've spent my _life_ trying to make myself what everyone else wants.” It was getting harder and harder to control his emotions in front of Akira. “And you—you can just do it without even trying?!” He was almost yelling. He was thinking back on the times he'd seen Akira with his friends, the things Sae had said about him. He had researched Akira obsessively, knew far more about him than he let on. He'd learned about Akira's lifestyle habits, the various people he visited—the man he bought model guns from, the newspaper reporter he shared gossip with (Goro would never forget that one—he'd basically killed her partner. Another tally on the heavy ledger of his guilt), the doctor who sold him drugs—Akira had built so many connections. So easily. Everyone liked him. _(Why him?)_

A million (fake) smiles, a million (staged) witty quips, a million (pseudo-)friendly attempts at conversation would not make Goro likeable.

Akira just looked back at him, something in his eyes close to hurt. “But without them, I'm nobody. You're _somebody._ Every place that I'm empty, you're _full._ You're full of so much personality, you can never really hide it, no matter how much you try.”

“Personality?” Goro didn't even know what to say to that. He was aghast.

“Yeah.” Akira got up, strode toward Goro, and wrapped his arms around Goro's neck, pressing up close to him. “Being with you...fills me. I become someone. Wanting you...is the one thing I have that feels like it comes from inside me. It shows me I'm not empty.”

Goro couldn't say anything. He just stood there, arms slack at his sides, letting himself be held.

A few moments passed, and Akira added, “...I'd like it if you filled me in the literal sense, too.”

Goro laughed against his neck. “Now you've ruined the moment.”

“My boner is ruining the moment,” Akira grumbled, and Goro leaned in a little closer to press against his hardness, bringing his hands up to Akira's hips. Akira pressed back, grinding gently against Goro, and Goro found himself getting hard, too.

Goro held Akira close, rolling his hips up and down against him, relishing the little gasp this drew from him. After so many weeks apart, Goro couldn't resist him, even if he'd wanted to try.

“Don't tease me,” Akira moaned against his throat. “Just fuck me already.”

Akira's lust for him was more than a little intoxicating. Goro kissed him, devoured him, and Akira gave himself up, letting Goro push him backward and down onto the bed.

Both of them were already too worked up for foreplay. On his back, under Goro's kiss, Akira shoved off his pants and went for Goro's belt, too. When Goro's cock was finally out, Goro pressed it against Akira's, breaking the kiss.

“The lube is over there,” Akira pointed over to a spot on the shelf close to the bed, though he moaned when Goro broke away from him to get it.

While Goro was up, he dumped his undone pants and nervously squeezed out some lube, rubbing it over himself. More was better, right?

Akira took Goro's hand, pulling him down onto the bed on top of him, and spreading his legs. “Just get your dick in me now,” Akira practically demanded.

Seeing Akira like spread vulnerable underneath him, hard and begging for it, was enough on its own to get Goro too close to coming. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes to control himself a bit, then slowly slid into Akira's hole. Akira trembled, one hand reaching up above him to grab one of the bars of his bed while the other moved to his dick to start jerking himself.

Goro started slow. He didn't want to be the first one to come, and he was way too close. But Akira was rocking against him, begging, “Please...fuck me hard...” and Goro couldn't say no.

When Goro slammed into him, Akira yelped, his left hand squeezing around the bar of the headboard while his had sped up on his dick. Akira's breath hitched with every thrust, his eyes squeezed shut.

“I...don't want to come too soon,” Goro panted.

“No...please...please...come inside me...fill me up...” Akira muttered breathlessly, and that was too much for Goro. He came deep inside Akira, overwhelmed by Akira's heat.

Akira continued to jerk himself off underneath Goro, pushing his shirt up and out of the way so he could come on his stomach, ass clenching around Goro's dick while it was still hard and raw from orgasm. Goro gasped and collapsed on top of him, holding Akira as he shuddered in the last aftershocks.

They lay like that for a while, Goro still inside Akira, his face buried in Akira's chest. The attic was blazing hot in the summer heat, but Goro didn't want to move. He wanted to stay like that forever.

Akira, however, squirmed a little. “That was amazing and thank you...but I'm sweltering and sticky,” he said. Pushing his upper body off the bed, Goro could indeed see that his shirt was soaked through at the chest and and armpits. So reluctantly, he pulled away, looking for a tissue to wipe himself off with. Akira pointed over and the shelf again, and Goro brought the whole box over so they could both clean up.

Akira's solution to the heat was just to take off his shirt and socks, too, and go over to the floor fan that seemed to be constantly running in his room and point it at the bed so he could lie on his stomach directly in his path, his chin propped up on his hands. He seemed to be a natural nudist.

Goro pulled his briefs back on. He felt somewhat awkward just sitting around in his shirt and nothing else, but he also couldn't help but remember Akira questioning him about his scars, and he didn't want that conversation to come up again. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside Akira.

“Just take your shirt off. You've got to let the sweat dry off it, at least,” Akira said, tugging at the edge of his shirt. “Don't be so self-conscious.”

Goro made a disgruntled noise, but kept the shirt on. The fan felt nice, blowing in their faces. Once he had his blazer on again, that would hide the sweat, marks, anyway.

“My parents always ignored me,” Akira said suddenly. “I think maybe that's why I ended up so obsessed about getting attention from other people.”

“I thought you didn't like revealing things about yourself.”

“I don't. But I want to tell you.” Akira closed his eyes a minute, and continued. “And I mean, they really ignored me. They were hardly ever home. I grew up on convenience store food. I can count on one hand the number of school events they came to. When I had appendicitis, I nearly died because they didn't notice I was sick.”

Goro didn't say anything, but leaned back a little so that his back was touching Akira's side, and Akira leaned into him.

“So I made myself the center of attention at school. I became really, really good at making people love me. But...” He turned his head, looking at Goro. “I wasn't a good person. I just said whatever I thought people wanted to hear. Even if it was horrible.”

Akira turned his face back to the fan, closing his eyes. “Every class has its share of victims. And if you want to be popular, you have to be the aggressor. And I was. I often initiated it. In the grand scheme of things, the bullying I did was probably pretty typical. Nothing too extreme. But...then he killed himself.”

Akira dropped his chin off his hands, falling down to the bed. “The quiet kid in class, the one who was always the target, killed himself at school. He jumped off the roof. And...nobody blamed me. People said things like, _Oh, he had problems at home._ _Nothing we could have done._ Everyone was making excuses about it.”

Goro kept his voice carefully flat. “So is that why you've been pursuing me so aggressively? Guilt over this boy you couldn't save? You think you can 'save' me?”

“No!” Akira spun around and shot into a sitting position, grabbing Goro by the shoulders. Goro jumped a little in surprise. “No. After he died, I transferred to a different school where nobody knew me. And I just...checked out. I didn't want to be friends with anyone. Everything seemed so fake. Everyone was so shallow. I hated everyone, and I hated the world.” He looked Goro straight in the eye. “When I first met you, I thought to myself, _he's just like I was, then. He wants out of this world and he's desperately trying to hide it._ I know...I know what it's like to feel like you have to pretend.”

_No, no you don't. You don't get it._ Goro's hands tightened around the bedsheets, and he looked down, away from Akira's gaze. “I wish I could have met you a few years ago,” he said, and he'd never meant anything more than he meant this now.

“Me, too,” Akira said, hugging Goro, and his warmth was like molten iron, branding Goro wherever he touched, hardening around him, and preventing his escape.

x x x

Before Goro left that evening, Akira made sure Goro unblocked his number and unblocked him on LINE, shoved a plastic container of leftover fried rice into his his hands, made him promise to eat it, and kissed him hard. Fortunately, Sojiro was gone, so that wasn't a situation Goro had to face yet.

Caught between giddiness and dread, Goro made his way back to his apartment, where he checked the activity on the Phansite.

Okumura was hovering around number one in the change of heart ranking. Things were going as planned.

Goro had wasted more time at Leblanc than he'd intended. There was some minor business that needed taking care of before the Thieves got to Okumura's palace—it shouldn't take long, but he hadn't explored this palace before, and these days, he had to be extra careful not to get himself suspiciously injured.

Inside the palace, as was becoming usual lately, a shadow that resembled a winged girl in a red dress came to fall at his feet, begging surrender. He was so worn down by seeing this same scenario, over and over again, that his finger hesitated on the trigger and his gun lowered just a centimeter.

But this seemed to be enough for the shadow, as immediately, it melted away with a whisper of _I am thou..._

Goro jerked, dropping his sword and falling forward, and a knife of pain stabbed through his head. It had been so long since this had happened, when he tried to rip it out, he just couldn't, and the shadow-turned-person sat there in his head, throbbing like the worst migraine headache imaginable.

He held his head in his hands as knees buckled. Fortunately, there were no other shadows in the immediate vicinity, but it was hard to feel fortunate with a hot coal burning a hole in his brain. Goro tried to concentrate, tried to force it out of his head, but every time he thought he'd done it, his focus shattered and his grip on it slipped. He hadn't struggled with this for years, not since he'd first come into his power—so why was this happening now?

All he needed was Robin Hood and Loki. They were powerful enough to get him anything he wanted. Anything else _hurt._

He ripped off his helmet, dropping it on the ground so he could press the heels of his hands against his temples, as if that would force it out, but it wasn't happening. He could hear its whispers in his head as loud as screams.

_I died before knowing love...you and I will know it, before you die._

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. Goro blinked. He searched, and he could sense it was still there, but it was sleeping and unobtrusive in a corner of his mind.

It didn't seem like a very strong persona, and not something he would ever bother using, even if using anything but Robin Hood or Loki didn't cause him debilitating agony. But the thought of going through that again to pull it out was feeling like way too much work right then, so he figured he'd leave it. Let sleeping dragons lie.

With a sigh, he picked up his helmet, shoved it back on, and finished the job he'd come to do.

x x x

Following that, Akira's date of choice seemed to be coming over to cook for him. He would swing by Goro's apartment with bags of groceries, barge in, and just start cooking.

And strangely, Goro was okay with this. He began to just put everything else out of mind while Akira was over, and it became easier and easier to pretend that there was nothing else going on in either of their lives other than a pure enjoyment of each others' company.

This was clearly a very advanced form of compartmentalization. But Goro was good at that.

Akira was a surprisingly talented chef. Goro appreciated all the cooking he did, and did his best to help.

But this? This was too much.

“It's not my birthday,” Goro said with a sigh as he stood at the counter, assigned to mixing whipped cream with an electric mixer (provided by Akira).

Akira waved a hand, the other one occupied by his cell phone, displaying the recipe. “I missed your birthday. I'm making it up for you.”

“You hadn't even met me when it was my birthday,” Goro said dryly.

“Exactly. I missed it.”

Somehow, Akira had gotten it in his head that he had to make a birthday cake for Goro. Goro suspected this was more out of a desire to eat cake than anything else, but he really couldn't complain when he was getting a free cake out of it.

Since Goro didn't have an oven, Akira had bought a couple of pre-baked chocolate cake slabs from the grocery store, and these were currently laid out on two large plates on the kitchen counter (one of them was placed precariously half over the sink, due to lack of counter space). This forced Goro to hold the bowl of whipped cream in his hands as he whipped it, which turned out to be a bad idea. Once the cream got thick enough, he promptly raised the blender to high and sprayed a bunch of whipped cream in his face with the electric mixer.

Predictably, Akira laughed at him, and Goro sulked.

“You're a collection of comic cooking disasters,” Akira teased him, reaching over to wipe a dollop of whipped cream off Goro's face with a finger, then lick it off. Goro was only slightly distracted from the embarrassment of his failure by the sight of Akira licking his fingers in what had to be a deliberate attempt to seduce him. “It's cute to see you so bad at something.”

This was offensive. “I'm not _bad_ at it. You just forced me to hold the bowl while mixing. Anyone would have made a mess, eventually.”

“Uh-huh.” Akira stopped licking his fingers, eliminating the middle man to lean in and lick whipped cream straight off Goro's face.

“H-hey...” Hands occupied by the bowl and mixer (currently clicked off) and tethered to the wall by the cord of the mixer, Goro was helpless to resist the onslaught of licking.

“Come on, it's not gonna cost you anything to admit you're a terrible cook,” Akira said teasingly, turning Goro's face to lick a different spot on his cheek.

“It'll cost me self-respect,” Goro muttered, feeling a dribble of whipped cream slowly slide down from his hair down his forehead.

“You're standing there covered in whipped cream that you put there yourself. You have no self-respect. Unless this was just a ploy to get me to lick you off?”

Goro leaned back, clicked on the electric mixer and sprayed good slosh of whipped cream all over Akira's face in retaliation. “Whoops. Look at how clumsy I am! Silly me.” When Akira just stood there stupidly for a minute, Goro got him with another spray for good measure, then snickered.

Akira just licked the whipped cream off his lips and said, “You know you're gonna have to clean this off, right?”

It took some time before the cake got done.

Eventually, there it was, sitting on the kitchen counter: chocolate base, whipped cream, and raspberries in the middle as well as on top, in the shape of a heart—Akira had demanded that they be placed in that shape, while Goro had been the one made to do it.

“See? Wasn't that worth it?” Akira said with some satisfaction.

“Let's just eat this thing,” Goro sighed. He still felt rather sticky.

“We need to put the candles on it, first,” Akira grinned, pulling a pack of birthday candles out of his bag.

“You actually bought candles?!”

“Of course! What's a birthday cake without candles?”

“I keep telling you, it's not my birthday.”

“Unbirthday, then.”

“What?” Goro was confused.

“You never see _Alice in Wonderland?_ ” Akira asked, sneakily taking advantage of Goro's distraction to start sticking candles in the cake.

“Disney was never really my thing.”

“Not into musicals?”

_Not into happily-ever-afters,_ Goro was about to say, but stopped. That wasn't quite true. There had been a point in his life where he'd been naive like that. But there were other reasons. “I just didn't want to give bullies ammunition,” he admitted. He sort of expected Akira to prod him about that, but he didn't.

“No sad thoughts on your birthday,” Akira said instead, and done with the candles, he pulled out a box of matches and started lighting the birthday candles, starting from the back. Then, when he was done, the bastard started _singing._ “Happy birthday to you...”

Goro covered his face with his hands and moaned, “It's not my birthday...” but Akira just sang louder, determinedly getting all the way through the song as Goro stood there, feeling mortified.

“Okay okay, make a wish, quick!” Akira grabbed his arm, yanking one hand down off his face, and Goro lowered his other arm with resignation.

Standing in front of the cake, Goro froze. _Make a wish_. He hadn't bothered with birthday parties or cakes since the last foster family he'd stayed with. They had been shit, but they'd gotten him a store-bought cake for his birthday, at least. He'd wished for the same thing he had every year. Fat lot of good it had done him.

“C'mon, the cake is gonna get covered in wax,” Akira needled him.

Goro blew the candles out in one breath.

“Yaaay!” Akira cheered and clapped as if he were at a four-year-old's birthday party. “So what did you wish for?”

“Aren't you supposed to keep that secret?” Goro said.

“Well yeah, but I wanna know, so.”

Goro smiled. Wishing had never done him any good. “It's a secret.”

“It was to be famous, right? Or rich.”

Goro's smile intensified. “I'm not telling you.”

“Or wait—” Akira got a nasty glint in his eye. “You wished for a bigger dick.”

“...” Goro went bright red, but refused to rise to the bait.

“Ohh, that's it, isn't it?! You wished for a bigger dick!” Akira needled him, elbowing him in the side.

“I didn't wish for a bigger dick!” Goro protested. “I mean, it's big enough...” he trailed off, and ended weakly, “...right?”

Akira snickered at him, and started pulling the candles off the cake. “Your dick is great. I'm just giving you a hard time.”

Goro had not been thinking about this before, but now that it had been brought up, he couldn't help but wonder about Akira's previous partners, and what it had been like with them, and if they had been better (they probably— _definitely_ would have been), and if Akira still had feelings for any of them, and how many had there been, honestly, and what if—

“Stop thinking stupid thoughts,” Akira said, and suddenly Goro found a hunk of cake being shoved into his mouth with Akira's fingers.

Goro swallowed the piece of cake and said, “You touched it with your fingers!”

“Yeah. So what? Gonna stop me?” Akira ripped off another whipped cream-covered chunk and stuffed it in his own mouth, a challenging look in his eye as he swallowed it.

“Yes, I am!” Goro fished around his one drawer for a knife and cut out even slices, making sure Akira got the piece with bits ripped out of them, and served out a slice each on two plates.

“The slices fell apart anyway because you're garbage at serving,” Akira commented once they were seating on the floor together with forks in hand, looking at the plate in front of him. “Does a couple of bits taken out of it really matter?”

Goro eyed the mess he had slopped onto Akira's plate, already fast disappearing into Akira's mouth. “I didn't do that badly,” he defended himself lamely, feeling rather sullen. “You could have done it yourself, if you hate my serving so much.”

“I don't mind what it looks like. _You're_ the one who cares,” Akira pointed out with a mouth full of cake, pointing his fork at Goro. “I know only the taste matters.”

“Presentation is important,” Goro muttered, and took a bite of his cake. He had to admit, it tasted better than the mess on his plate looked.

“I know _you_ think so.” Akira was practically inhaling his cake as he spoke. “Mr.-I-don't-even-eat-breakfast-but-I-iron-my-shirts-every-day.” He swallowed the last chunk in record time. “You have more hair products in your bathroom than you have food in your fridge.”

Blushing only slightly, Goro put on his best TV smile. “I don't need lifestyle advice from someone who walks around covered in cat hair all day.”

“Being covered in cat hair is just being covered in love!” Akira said, getting up to get himself more cake.

“Get yourself a lint roller already,” Goro grumbled, and returned to his cake.

After they had both eaten a sickening amount of cake and put the leftovers in the fridge, they cuddled together on Goro's futon, watching internet cat videos on Akira's phone (Akira was enthusiastic about this, while Goro grudgingly enjoyed it) until it got late and Akira had to go home.

“Hope you had a good birthday,” Akira said at the door, just before leaving.

“It's not my birthday,” Goro replied, for what had to be the hundredth time that day.

“Birthdays are arbitrary,” Akira waved a dismissive hand.

“They're really not.”

“They are. I mean, you told me you skipped your last couple ones arbitrarily. So it's fair for me to add some extras arbitrarily to make up for them, isn't it?”

Goro had forgotten that he'd even mentioned that to Akira. “Was that why you did this?”

“Of course.” He paused. “Also, the cake bases were on sale. I think they expire tomorrow.”

“...Now you tell me...”

Akira yanked Goro toward him by the shirt and give him a soft kiss, then pulled back to ask, “So what was your birthday wish?”

“That again? I told you it was a secret.”

“Come _on._ ”

“I'm not telling,” Goro told him with a smooth smile.

“Ugh, you're so frustrating,” Akira said, but relented. “I'll see you later. I really got to get back. He leaned in for one more quick kiss, then slipped out the door.

Goro stood there for a few moments after Akira left, then went to the bathroom to have a shower. He still felt sticky from the whipped cream incident.

Unfortunately, showers always made thoughts wander, and he couldn't help but think back on Akira's question.

_What was your birthday wish?_

Once upon a time, he had wished for a family.

In an ironic way, hadn't some god (or devil, or whatever being it was that had granted him his powers. These days, he wasn't so sure) granted his wish? He had been reunited with his father, after all. Maybe wishes did come true.

Goro gave a dry laugh, and turned off the water.

x x x

By the time the Phantom Thieves set foot in Okumura's palace, Goro was spending essentially all his free time watching their activities. Immediately after encountering Wakaba Isshiki's daughter at Leblanc, he had looked into her and figured out she was the computer wizard of the group, as well as a persona user herself. Her presence could be an issue if left unmanaged, so he made sure to contact Shido's hacker and let him know he'd better cover his fucking tracks on the Phansite.

But at this point, the excuse that he was doing it for the intel was starting to wear thin, even to himself. He wasn't just keeping track of them. He was essentially stalking them on a near-daily basis. Through careful analysis of Akira's personal habits and schedule, Goro had sussed out which days the Phantom Thieves were working on Okumura's palace, and he was following them in surreptitiously every single time.

This was actually the first he had ever really spent some time watching them inside the metaverse, and the sight of them was striking. There was a lot to be gathered from their costumes and personas—they were basically psychology laid bare, after all—and Joker, he was—he was something else. He almost seemed like a completely different person from Akira. Akira was a hunched, shuffling, and somewhat silly boy. Joker was confident to the point of arrogance, a leader, and talented with a dizzying array of personas. What had come off as okama when he was Akira suddenly seemed theatrical as Joker.

Goro felt like the rug had been pulled out of him. Was this who he really was? Who was the person Akira had been in front of him, all this time?

He recalled how Akira had said he would be whatever people wanted him to be. Was his power over dozens of personas the result of that? Just how many masks did he wear?

Maybe Goro hadn't been the only one hiding a side of himself.

The Thieves were weak, but startlingly strong, compared to where they had started. And Joker—wait too long, and Joker would surpass him. Goro knew this with a heavy certainty. He couldn't afford to put this off any longer. In a matter of months, Joker had reached a point that had taken Goro over a year, and he had that unique power, to boot.

_How can he do that?_ Goro demanded, but of course, there was no one to answer. _How has it all come to him so easily? I nearly_ died _in the first palace I invaded! How can he flip through personas like they're fucking Pokemon?!_

Watching their party fight a particularly powerful group of shadows, Goro was struck with the sudden temptation just to use Loki's berserk power on the shadows and wipe the Phantom Thieves all out immediately. It would be so easy to do it now. Eliminate the problem before it got bigger.

Goro realized he was afraid.

He couldn't do it. He had to stick to the plan. But the fear remained with him, sitting in his throat as he watched the Thieves fight, explore, fool around, and raid treasure.

They always let their guards down when they were in safe rooms. It would be so easy.

Leaning on the wall outside the door to the safe room, Goro eavesdropped on their conversation. It shifted between tactics, discussion of Okumura himself, and idle chitchat.

“...not to be so reckless, seriously.” That was Panther's voice. Goro was familiar with all their code names, now. They were...cute. He'd never considered coming up with a code name for himself. There was no point, when he had no one to share it with.

“You're the one who had to light the whole room on fire,” Skull shot back. “I was just getting my ass out of the way!”

“Joker, tell him he's being an idiot.”

“You're being an idiot, Skull.”

More banter. More chatter. Most of it stupid and pointless. Why were they sitting around in a safe room instead of just getting the job done, anyway? Why waste the time? Goro found himself wondering what they talked about at school, what they talked about when they weren't in palaces. They talked way too loud, laughed way too loud—it was all so gratingly loud.

“It'll be okay, Noir,” said Mona (boy, had Goro been startled to learn that Akira's goddamn cat was a Phantom Thief, too).

“Your dad's going to be okay. All the other ones were.” That was Joker. He'd been doing a lot of comforting and soothing of their newest member lately. “You don't have to stress about it.”

“Thank you... I trust you, I just can't help but be worried,” said Noir.

_I'm going to fucking kill your daddy. Black ooze will shoot out of his every orifice and he won't even have the breath to scream. I wonder if you'll see it? Come on, he's a piece of shit and he deserves it. Admit it already._ The only thing that pissed Goro off more than the way Joker seemed to feel he had to cater to Noir's delicate feelings was the way Noir was so _apologetic_ on behalf of her father, the way she continued to worry and fuss and talk about how she wanted to _help_ him and _fix_ him.

Goro wanted to scream at her, _stop with the fucking act! Admit you hate him!_ There was no way, no way she could be that sincere in her concern about him when he treated her as a prize to be traded off to the highest bidder. The way she played the good girl made him sick. Haru Okumura was the fakest piece of shit in their little band of merry men, and he was going to fucking enjoy killing her father.

“I know he's done bad things,” she said, sounding on the verge of tears, and each word made Goro hate her more. He imagined Joker with a comforting hand on her shoulder, perhaps rubbing her back. The whole group was probably looking on with kind concern. Oh, they all felt for her, he was sure they did. What are friends for, after all? “But I still love him...he's my father.”

_Stop lying, stop LYING, stop FUCKING LYING._

_I'm going to shoot that piece of shit dead, and the world will be better off for it._

 


	4. Inhibition

Goro had never been in the habit of accumulating _stuff._ Partly because he'd never really had the money for _stuff,_ but also because when you could be forced to move at any time, often on very short notice, you learn that you just have to leave most of it behind, anyway, so it's best not to get too much _stuff_ in the first place.

Akira was leaving so much shit in his apartment.

He kept forgetting to bring pots and pans back (Goro imagined Sojiro would be rather miffed about that when he found out where all his junk was going), so Goro was forced to stuff them into his meager cupboard space, somehow, and there was a pot and a colander just sitting on the counter because he had nowhere else to put it.

The cooking implements, Goro could get, at least.

The stuffed cat, even, had been acceptable.

But why the cactus?

“It suits you,” Akira said, handing him the tiny little pot with its tiny little thumb-sized cactus. “Just put it by your window and remember to water it.” He gave Goro a little folded paper that explained how to care for the cactus.

“Are you saying I'm prickly?” Goro said dryly, accepting the cactus pot and the paper with a sigh, and going over to place it on his desk, in front of the window. “This isn't very subtle.”

“No, it's because it's cute, and you're cute.”

“Aha-ha...” Akira would give him the strangest compliments, and Goro couldn't get used to it. “You don't need to keep getting me things.”

Akira stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the closet. “I didn't even pay for this. I got it from work, at the flower shop. Can you believe no one wanted that little guy? They were just going to throw him out!”

“Oh, so that's why you think it suits me?” Goro got even dryer. “Because it was unwanted?”

Akira frantically backpedalled. “I didn't mean—”

“That was a joke.” Goro sat himself down sideways on his desk chair, facing Akira, and gave him a cheeky smile. “Can't handle a little self-deprecating humour?”

“Agh...your humour is mean, seriously...”

Goro laughed at him, leaning sideways into the back of the chair. “You're just an easy target.”

“Sorry for being concerned,” Akira said, but his pout had a smile cracking through it.

“Goro is a big boy, and can, in fact, take care of himself.”

“Mommy's just worried about her little boy.”

“Mommy's going to stress herself into an early grave. Just like mommy number one.”

This joke was clearly too much for Akira, as he cringed. Goro snickered behind a hand at his reaction. “What, you really can't take this? I have so many dead parents jokes.” Akira just shook his head, so Goro took that as his cue to continue. “What do you get when you have twenty dead parents?”

“Do I want to know...?”

“About two thousand yen in welfare cheques.”

“That's just sad...”

Goro laughed harder, smacking on the desk with one hand. “I never knew you were such a sensitive soul!”

“I never knew you had such a dark sense of humour. Does that stuff really not bother you?”

Goro smiled wryly. “My mother died so long ago, I hardly remember her. Besides, at institutions, the kids with dead parents are frankly the lucky ones.” He snorted.

“Isn't your dad still alive?”

“I'd really rather he wasn't,” Goro replied smoothly, his smile not wavering an inch.

“I know a guy, if you want that handled.”

Goro blinked at Akira, but then Akira burst out snickering at him. “Oh, was that one too much for you? I thought you liked dark humour!”

Goro gave a snort of a laugh in response.

“No, but seriously.” Akira's face turned serious. “I know a guy who's ex-yakuza. He could...” Akira made a _pow_ sound effect with a finger-gun to his head.

Goro stared back at him.

Akira cackled. “I got you with the same thing twice?!”

“Ha, ha,” said Goro. Then all expression dropped off his face. “Just so you know, I'm planning to do it myself. But I have to earn his trust, first, and build him up to the perfect moment before I can—” he made a stabbing motion—“right in the back.” He stared at Akira.

Akira stared back.

“Aha-ha.” Goro grinned. “Got you.”

“Aghhhh! No more of these jokes! This is too much stress for my heart!” Akira mussed his hair in his hands and pushed off the wall.

“I could go all day,” Goro leaned his face on his hand, his elbow over the back of the chair. “I suppose this means I win.”

“This was a contest?!”

“Everything is a contest.”

“Oh, really?” Akira stepped toward Goro, and leaned in above him. “If everything is a contest, then how about this... Whoever comes first, loses.”

Goro couldn't stop his face from turning red, but glared right back at Akira. “All right, then.”

x x x

Akira won.

“Agh...”

“Look at it this way,” Akira said as they both lay sprawled naked in a tangle on Goro's futon. “When you get an orgasm, that's basically a victory in itself.”

This was a stupid placation. Goro pushed himself up and looked Akira in the eye. “We're doing it again.”

“What?!”

“I'm _not_ letting you beat me this time,” he said, irritation leaking into his voice.

x x x

Akira won again.

“Agh...” This time it was Akira moaning. In exhaustion.

Goro ground his teeth a little. “We're doing it again.”

x x x

Akira let him win.

Goro was predictably smug about it. “I told you I'd win this one.”

“Yeah, good for you,” Akira's moan was muffled as he lay face-down on the futon. “My dick hurts. This is the last time I ever compete with you in anything, ever.”

Goro's dick hurt too, but he wasn't about to admit that. “It sounds like you're just being a sore loser,” he said as he pulled his briefs back on.

Akira's head turned over and he gave Goro the most _bitch, please_ look of the century. “Goro, do you understand what _projection_ means?”

Goro smothered him with the pillow.

x x x

After Akira left, Goro sat at his desk chair, about to open up his laptop to do some work when his eye caught on the cactus again.

There were too many things in his apartment, now.

There was food in the fridge with sticky notes on it. There were curly hairs in the shower. Akira had left a pair of underwear behind once, which Goro had quietly taken, washed, and tucked in a corner of his closet.

Akira always left the bathroom fan on. Akira kept opening the window to let a breeze in. And lately, Goro had been leaving that window open.

Even in the places where Akira hadn't left anything physical, Goro could sense his presence, leaning against the closet, standing in front of the sink, talking while he was on the toilet, lying stretched out on the futon.

“This isn't where you belong,” he muttered into his hand.

x x x

The Phantom Thieves' progress through Okumura's palace was both annoyingly slow and frighteningly fast.

It seemed they couldn't even open a treasure chest without bickering about it ad nauseum. They just never stopped chattering at each other. With each hour that passed trailing them, Goro found new reasons to hate each and every one of them.

“Take that, you bitch-ass shadows!”

Skull. He was the pathologically stupid one, and every word that came out of his mouth was a new reason to cringe. His lack of self-control was a boggling sight to see.

“Oh, my god, Skull!”

Panther. Couldn't go for five minutes without gossiping or prodding someone about their feelings. Was really just as stupid as Skull, and only slightly better at hiding it.

“Come, Goemon!”

Fox. A head-in-the-clouds pure _arteeest_ with a one-track mind, who believed he could eat beauty during the day and sleep on a mattress of ideals at night. Maybe he would smarten up once he was inevitably out on the street.

“Watch out to your right, Fox!”

Queen. What a fitting code name for that stuck-up little goody-two shoes. She really thought she was the shit, didn't she? Miss moral fucking authority. Even though she couldn't take two steps down the street without her sister's approval, and was pathetically obsessed with one-upping Goro at every turn.

“Go for its weakness! It's fire!”

Navi. ...Goro hated her because he had to hate her. That was all.

“Tee-hee. That was fun.”

Noir. Naive, fake, two-faced little doll, dancing under her darling daddy's puppet strings, incapable of seeing him for really was. Always trying to make herself nice, palatable and non-threatening in the most blatantly grating way possible.

“We're moving on, guys!”

Joker. Talented. Cocky, in a charismatic way. Calm and collected. Always in control. Beloved and trusted by his team.

Perfect.

x x x

They went out, for once, just to the park. The weather was nice, and it seemed like a waste to spend the time cooped up inside.

It was getting to be fall, but still warm enough that you could do without a jacket, and there was a reasonable smattering of people occupying the park. When Akira had texted him about this, saying they were going to the park, Goro had wondered just what the hell they were going to do there, but the question was answered for him when he arrived and saw Akira standing there with a big bag of rolled oats.

“Oats?” Goro asked him, baffled.

“For the ducks,” Akira said.

“You and your old man hobbies,” Goro muttered.

“Don't knock it until you've tried it!”

So they headed off to the pond in search of some ducks, and lo and behold, there were ducks. It seemed this was a regular feeding spot, as the moment they saw Akira with his big bag, the little quackers came waddling toward him expectantly.

Akira's expression as he scattered oats, ducks scrabbling all around him, was the picture of bliss. Goro couldn't help but smile.

Sitting himself down on a nearby bench, Goro observed Akira at peak old man.

Hanging back a few meters away from the ducks mobbing Akira's feet, there was a single wary crow, hopping in, and then fluttering back again. Akira noticed it, and scattered some oats in its direction, but the motion just scared the bird away, as well as startling the ducks back a few feet.

“You don't have to feed every bird here,” Goro said to him.

“Nah, he'll come back,” Akira said with certainty. “Crows are shy when they're alone. But they like oats as much as any bird.” He scattered a few more oats, then said, “Did you know crows are super smart? They'll remember faces. So if you throw rocks or something at a crow, then next time he sees you, he'll dive bomb your face. They'll really hold a grudge.”

“Well, in English, they call a group of crows a _murder._ ”

“Oh, is that right? ...Well, it's true that crows are associated with death in cultures all over the world. But that's just because they're omnivores, and they'll eat whatever they can get, including carrion. They don't do much killing themselves. Humans just project their own traits onto animals.”

Goro looked down at his gloves. “If your point is that humans are the real murderers, you're not wrong.”

“My point was more just that crows are actually pretty nice, if you learn more about them.” Akira's head turned around, and Goro saw the crow had returned, and was pecking at the oats. “I wonder where his family went?” Akira wondered. “Usually crows have buddies.”

“Maybe he does better alone,” Goro muttered, not really intending for Akira to hear.

But Akira didn't miss that. “I could introduce you to my friends, if you wanted.” He really cut right through Goro's attempt to pretend this wasn't about him, straight to the point. Goro had to appreciate his bluntness, as frustrating as it could be.

“I'd really rather you not.”

“Why not?”

“...I don't think we'd get along.”

“What makes you say that?”

 _A lifetime of experience? My upcoming plan to have you all killed?_ “I have my own life. I don't need to be an attachment to yours.” That came out rather more bitter than he'd meant it to.

“What if actually, I'm an attachment to your life?” Akira said, and Goro didn't have a reply to that.

Goro decided to shift the conversation away from himself. “You said you dropped all your friends, before you came here. So what changed?”

Akira looked down at the ducks for a little bit before replying. “I was arrested for assault. Just so you know—I didn't do it. I saw this drunk getting handsy with a woman who didn't want it, I told him off, he fell on his face by himself, and I got framed for it. And I got shipped off here.”

Goro had read all of this (in edited form. He'd filled in the blanks himself) from his file already, but hearing it from the horse's mouth was something else.

“And you know...I'm glad I did it. Despite all the bullshit, it was the first time in my life I really felt I'd done the right thing. I guess it made me feel hopeful. Like things could change. And if I was being honest with myself...I'd really wanted friends, all along, anyway.”

“Well, good for you,” Goro said, trying his best not to sound snide and failing. “If only we could all be so lucky.”

“You could be!” Akira said, scattering birds with the volume of his voice. “If you wanted.”

Even if, in some alternate universe, they had just been normal high school kids talking about their normal social lives, that wouldn't have been possible. “Do you honestly think I've never tried?”

“So you blew it a few times, whatever. It doesn't mean it'll never happen.”

“Some people...” _are fundamentally lacking basic human qualities._ “are just not suited for it. You can try...” _but it will only hurt worse than when you started._ “but it won't get you anywhere. And...” _it's hard for me to feel anything but disinterest, disdain, and loathing for other people, anyway._ “It's really not worth the trouble when there's so much else that fills my time.”

Sometimes, the looks Akira gave him made Goro think he was reading between the lines, hearing what went unsaid.

But that was probably just wishful thinking.

“What are your friends to you?” Goro asked him, in attempt to get those eyes off him.

Akira paused to think, the ducks at his feet starting to wander away they finished off the oats he'd dropped, and it didn't seem he would offer any more. “People to live for,” he said, a brief enough remark, but enough for Goro to understand.

Akira seemed to notice Goro's eyes drifting off into a dark place, so he came over to him, scattering the few remaining ducks to give him a whack on the shoulder. “I'll live for you, too.”

A dry autumn wind blew through, and Goro licked his lips, standing up.

“You make me want to kiss you, when you do that,” Akira murmured quietly.

Goro smiled a little, but it was hard to push the corners of his lips all the way up. “Save it for when we're in private.” And he stood up, and started walking back the way they'd come, expecting Akira to follow. He needed to hide his face from Akira.

_And you'll die for me._

x x x

The Thieves had sent out their declaration, and today was the day they'd be heading into the palace for the last time, to confront Okumura's shadow.

Goro was in the palace long beforehand, settled in at one of the many security stations within. Okumura's high-tech paradise made observing the Thieves easier—he didn't have to lurk behind them every step of the way, monitoring them from behind a dozen screens instead. Conveniently enough, there was a security room very close to to the core of the palace, where Okumura's shadow would likely make his last stand. So Goro cleared out the room and settled himself in for a wait, leaning back in the office chair positioned in front of the rows of security monitors.

Okumura's strategy was quantity over quality—as expected for a fast food giant. The Thieves seemed to handle themselves fairly well at first, against the weaker shadows, but as the flood of enemies around them slowly ramped up in strength, they began to struggle. They stood in a circle, Navi's UFO in their center.

They trusted each other to guard each others' backs without even giving it a second thought. It made them stronger. It made Goro choke.

Joker was so much more powerful than the rest of them. They supported him, sure, but he was a one-man army, adapting instantly to any situation. He covered for the others again and again, making up for their weaknesses with his endless array of personas. Goro rolled his chair closer to the monitor and leaned forward to watch him, to watch the parade of monsters ripping their way out of his head. He always smiled when he did it, that cocky bastard. Even when the situation was at its worst, he always acted like this was just a game.

He had that same look on his face when a massive robot of a shadow slammed him in the head, sending him flying into the wall. He slid down, and hid the ground with a thud.

Screams. It wasn't long before the Thieves' formation fell apart. The battle turned into a melee, with shadows and personas jumbled together in a chaotic mess. Noir stood in front of Joker, casting spells to protect him, as Mona desperately tried to heal him. Their formation crumbled, the rest of them could barely keep up with the stream of robotic workers that Okumura just kept on sending in.

Goro tensed. He'd seen them in bad spots before, but—this wasn't looking good.

What if they died? What if Goro's expectations had been too high?

The shadows broke through Noir's barriers. Mona wasn't healing fast enough.

When a giant robotic worker reached out to grab Joker by the head, Goro wasn't even thinking anymore. He just shot out the security room door, spun around the corner and burst out the door to the upper walkway that hung two floors up in the great room where the fight was taking place. In the chaos of the battle, nobody noticed him carefully taking aim at Shadow Okumura from behind.

He fired. His bullet shattered the glass of Okumura's helmet and hit home in his head, but Goro fired two more shots in there for good measure, and Okumura slumped in his seat. A heartbeat passed, and his body melted into black ooze.

Instantly, all the shadows around him collapsed and vanished in the same way. Joker dropped to the ground, and the other Thieves' desperate battles all ground to a sudden halt.

Goro spun around and went back through the door and out of sight. Had they seen him? It didn't matter. They would have no idea what had happened, or who he was. And in the eyes of the world, this would be the work of the Thieves. The outcome was exactly as he'd planned. That was what mattered.

His feelings didn't.

x x x

Goro avoided looking at LINE for a whole two weeks after that. He removed the app from his home screen and turned off notifications just so he wouldn't even know if he'd received new messages. He couldn't bring himself to fully remove it and delete his chat history, but he didn't want to look at it, either.

He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to think about Akira.

It was easy enough to throw himself into his plans. He wasn't really paying much attention to school anymore—he attended enough that he wouldn't be called to task for it (he had special permission for a certain amount of absences) and maintained his grades to the point where no one would really be concerned, but it was mattering less and less as D-day approached. Shido was ramping things up for the election, things needed to be arranged with the police, and there was plenty of work to be done.

He had plenty to distract him from wondering if Akira was alive or dead.

It was near the end of October when he got a call. It was late, and Goro was at his desk with his laptop, finishing up some business, when his phone vibrated loudly, sliding across the desk surface. He jumped. He didn't get calls often, and he hadn't been expecting anything.

“Hello?” he answered.

“You're alive! I've sent you about a million messages on LINE.”

“Oh, haha. Sorry. I've been busy with work.” Suddenly, Goro felt weak in his chair. He leaned against his desk and focused on breathing.

“I would've come over, but I got this nasty head injury a couple weeks ago, and I basically feel fine, but Sojiro is convinced I'm involved in some gang fights or something and isn't letting me go anywhere but school until the doctor says I'm fully healed.”

“So was it a gang fight?”

“No! ...At least, I don't think it was. I kinda blacked out, and I have trouble remembering most of that day. Futaba says I tripped over Morgana and fell down the stairs, but I'm fairly sure she's making that up to make me look dumb.”

Goro gave a weak laugh. “You did say he sleeps on your face. Maybe he _is_ trying to kill you.”

“Morgana's a sweetie! He'd never do anything like that.”

“That's just what he _wants_ you to think.”

“Anyway,” said Akira, “come down to the cafe? Since I'm under medical arrest. ...I miss you.”

Goro moved the phone away from his mouth for a moment and ran a hand down his face. He carefully calmed his breathing, then brought the phone close again and said, “Sure. I'll come over tomorrow evening, all right?”

“All right! See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you.”

“Bye.”

Goro hung up, put his phone down, and leaned his elbows on his desk, face in his hands, taking deep, even breaths until he was under control again.

x x x

When Goro walked into the cafe, Akira was immediately waving at him from behind the bar, as if he'd been looking out the door to see when he came.

Goro sat himself down in what he had come to think of as his usual spot at the bar, putting his briefcase on the chair beside him and ordering the usual. Akira had already beat him to the punch, though, and the espresso shots were already pulling and the milk was already foaming, and within moments, a hot latte was on the counter in front of him, and Akira was leaning over the bar on his elbows, looking at him, chin on his hands.

Akira's intent staring made Goro blush in spite of himself. “What? Is there something on my face?” he asked.

“Your hair's a little off today.”

Goro reflexively raised a hand to his head, smoothing down his hair. “Is it?”

“Usually you have it like. Perfect. But today, it's kinda looking like you rolled out of bed and tried your best to manage it, but it just wasn't happening.”

“Are you sure you're not just describing yourself, every day?” Goro said dryly, then took a sip of his latte.

“I mean, I am. 'Cause it takes one to know one, right?” Akira said with a grin. “I dunno, are you sleeping all right? You're always drinking coffee so late at night, I've got to wonder how you sleep.”

“I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

“A good night's sleep is very important,” Akira said. “...There's someone who always nags me about that. And well, he's right. It makes all the difference.”

Goro heard a voice call, “I heard you admitting I'm right!” from the kitchen, and it was a powerful act of will not to react to what he knew most would hear as a cat meowing.

“...I just have a lot of things going on right now,” Goro said, eyes darting left.

“Yeah, me too, honestly,” Akira grimaced. “This head thing is a huge pain in the ass at the worst time.”

 _I bet,_ Goro thought to himself. He was about to say something snarky when suddenly, he heard a painfully familiar voice on the cafe TV. He just barely restrained a wince, keeping his eyes angled away so he didn't have to see that creature's face, too.

Akira's turned to the TV, though, pushing up off the counter, so Goro looked at Akira's face, instead. His lips were bent in a frown as he stared hard at the man onscreen, his lips twitching a little further down with every word that came out of Shido's mouth.

Goro would have prodded him about it, but he really didn't have the energy to be talking about Shido. He just filed that factoid away for future reference. For some reason, the fact that Akira clearly didn't like the man was very gratifying. So many people sucked Shido's cock (some of them, literally), and half of them weren't even insincere about it, either. It always made him sick.

Shido was talking about the Phantom Thieves, blah blah blah, Goro didn't want to hear it. Planned speeches Goro had been long since informed of. Goro interrupted him. “I don't think the Phantom Thieves are so bad, really.”

Akira turned back to look at him, skepticism in his eyes. “Weren't you the one talking about how the Phantom Thieves are criminals and should be judged in a court of law?”

“There are still so many unknowns surrounding them. But I find myself wanting to believe they truly are only seeking to reform wrongdoers. If that's really what's going on...then perhaps they _are_ heroes.”

Akira was blushing like an idiot. _You're making it way too obvious,_ Goro thought. _Try a little harder, come on._

“Of course they're heroes,” Akira said.

“What's a hero, to you?”

Akira paused, letting his head tilt sideways as he considered. “Someone who fights for people without the power to defend themselves.”

“Do you think people want to be defended?” Goro looked down at his cup. “Do you think they need heroes?”

“Well, obviously people want to be defended. But...maybe it'd be better if they didn't need heroes. If everyone had the power to defend themselves.”

“But isn't it power that turns you into a villain? Absolute power and all that?” Goro took another sip of his latte. It was really good. He was going to miss this.

“Yeah, if you have power over others. But if no one has power over anyone, then no one can abuse it.”

“I can see why you don't like Shido's politics,” Goro remarked, and finished his latte.

“His politics?” Akira said, confused for a moment. “Oh, yeah. He's obsessed with the military, isn't he? That's bullshit. Japan doesn't need a military.”

Well. That was a revealing reaction. Goro couldn't resist a little prodding. “You dislike something about him besides his politics?”

The frown returned to Akira's face. “Yeah. I told you about how I got arrested for assault, right? The guy who framed me...was him. It was Shido.”

Goro couldn't hide his reaction. He felt like he'd been smacked in the face. He raised his cup in attempt to hide his expression, but halfway up, he realized the cup was empty and put it down. He bit his lip, eyes swimming somewhere around Akira's chin.

“What's wrong?”

Goro jerked a bit. Had he been that obvious? He smiled. “Oh, aha, I just can't really say I like him much, either. You know, he just comes off as so fake to me. A public persona. And who knows what's on the inside?”

“Just like you, huh?”

Goro's gloved hands clenched into tight fists underneath the counter and he bit down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He kept his lips turned up, but he knew his eyes were filled with rage that he couldn't hold back. “Thank you for the coffee. I should get going, though,” he heard himself say, and he slipped off the stool, grabbed his briefcase, and made to leave.

Akira said something, but Goro wasn't even listening. All that was on his mind was getting away.

But before he could leave the cafe, Akira grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Hey, hold on. Why are you so mad? Is it because I called you fake? I'm sorry, that was a dumb thing to—”

“I'm not angry,” Goro lied, possibly one of the most obvious lies of his life, and he knew it, but he had to say it, couldn't say anything else. “I really do have to go. I just realized I have an errand that needs doing before it gets too late today.” He pulled his arm out of Akira's grip and put his hand on the door. Then paused. A breath for control. “I'll...see you soon.” This would probably be the last he'd see Akira before he blackmailed the Thieves into joining them. Akira wouldn't look at him the same way, after that. It would probably be over between them. It was stupid to be thinking about this, but he didn't want it to end on a bad note _(though of course it was going to end on a bad note, that was the plan)._

Goro turned back, glanced around the cafe. It was empty. Akira had probably asked Sojiro to go so they could be alone.

Goro took a step forward, cupped the side of Akira's face and kissed him, just a moment, then turned around again to go. “See you,” he said, and walked out of the cafe without looking back to see Akira's reaction.

 


	5. Impaction

Goro's blackmail of the Phantom Thieves on the day of the Shujin Academy panel went better than expected. It was something of a relief to know that it was over with Akira, and he could get back to doing what mattered. The entire time Goro was unveiling his “deductions,” Akira was glaring a hole in his forehead, but hardly said two words at all. Akira didn't speak much when he was around his friends to begin with, so this was no problem. They all seemed to buy it. What reason would they have to believe anything else? He had them right where he wanted them.

Akira didn't text him or anything afterwards, which was another relief. There was only one brief awkward moment a few days later, when they met in front of the courthouse to investigate Sae's palace, when Goro was exchanging contact information with the Thieves.

Ryuuji asked why Akira wasn't exchanging info with Goro, and Akira answered briefly, “I already have his number.”

“What?! Really, man?!” Ryuji was shocked. “You're in communication with the enemy?!”

Goro put on an expression of mild offense. “Ouch. I hope you won't think if me that way. I like to think we're on the same side.”

“And what side is that?” Ryuji snapped at him.

“Why, the side of justice,” Goro said with a beaming smile.

Ryuji scowled at him, but Ann cut him off before he could argue more. “Give it a rest, Ryuji. He's gonna be with us for a while. So play nice, okay?”

“I don't bite, I promise,” Goro said, putting his hands up in a gesture of meekness.

“That's a lie,” Akira muttered so quietly, Goro almost thought he'd imagined it. He chose to ignore it, regardless.

x x x

Not long after that, one evening at a really unholy hour when most sane people had to be asleep, when Goro was at his computer, he got a message from Futaba Sakura, of all people—not via the Thieves' chat, but a private text message. It was blunt.

**Break up with Akira.**

Goro was a bit stunned at the direct nature of the message. Futaba seemed like the timid, eccentric type. But she did maintain a different persona as Medjed. Some people could be very different when they weren't face-to-face.

**Ouch, that was a little blunt. You sound angry,** he texted back.

**You're not good for him,** the reply came back instantly.

**What makes you think that?**

There was a pause of a few minutes before he got the reply: **Half the time when he talks about you, he looks happy, and the other half of the time, he looks sad. And lately, he only ever looks sad.**

Until now, Goro had never really thought about Akira being sad, or hurt—about anything. It seemed like a ridiculous idea. What would Akira even have to be _actually_ sad about? He had everything. What did _he_ know about real pain?

Futaba's message just made him angry.

**He's always been the one to pursue me. I never asked him to chase me around. If he wants to stop, he can just do it. He's doing this to himself.**

Futaba was silent for a good five minutes. Either she'd abandoned the conversation, or she was writing an essay.

It turned out it was the latter. She was probably pissed, as her writing style very suddenly went to shit.

**just what the hell is ur fucking issue? do u get what a ducking hot-and-cold princess uv been acting liek?! and Akira always comes crying to ME about it when u suddenly disappear on him for 3 weeks cuz ur having sum temper tantrum and cant just have one ducking conversation and then hes askng me to not tell any1 about u guys cuz ur 2 much of a closet case to even come out to friends like wtf, do u think any of his friends wuld give u shit for that?! and NOW suddenly apparently u know about this thief stuff for how long now?! and ur tryin to fuck up everything weve been working for and you LIED to him about not knowing any of this for how long?! Just what is ur ducking deal?! what kind of shitty-ass POS BLACKMAILS his own fking boyfriend?! YOURE A BIG TURD AND U DONT DESERVE HIM!!11**

The wall of text was a little bit stunning, and kind of funny, in a way. Goro couldn't recall ever having been called a “big turd,” specifically. _And_ _if you think I'm a big turd over this, just wait until you see what's coming_ , he thought with some irony.

Goro sighed and considered what would be the most appropriate reply.

**I'll tell him we're not to interact outside of Phantom Thief business. Will that satisfy you?**

A pause.

**Good.**

Goro then tapped over to LINE to message Akira. **While it's probably stating the obvious at this point, I feel I should make it clear that any personal involvement we have is over. I will continue to be friendly with you and follow through on my agreement with all of you, so don't worry on that front.**

He tapped send, and put down his phone, and went back to his computer.

An hour passed, and he never heard the ding of a reply. And his work wasn't really getting anywhere, either. He'd spent most of the time playing with the cursor and scrolling up and down and up and down.

He looked at his phone again. Checked LINE.

Message read, an hour ago. No reply.

He hesitated a moment, then wrote, **I'm sorry.** Send.

He stared at the phone for a while, but there was no notification his message had been read.

Goro started writing out something else—then after about a paragraph of typing, thought the better of it, erased the whole thing, and deleted the whole app, message history and all.

x x x

It was strange, fighting among the Phantom Thieves instead of watching them from a distance. Of course, they never really treated him like one of the group. But there was enough pretending going on with both sides that the play-acting was rather pleasurable. Goro had never fought shadows with someone else before, and he had to admit it felt a little…exhilarating. He'd always loved fighting. And doing it together with Joker, as “Crow”—he couldn't help but privately grin about that nickname—felt great, despite pretenses.

And Joker seemed willing to play nice, too. He was a little distant, but he still spoke to Crow. And if he seemed a little more reckless, a little more bloodthirsty, and a little more aggressive than he had before—well, that was probably Crow's imagination.

Or at least, that was how things were for the first couple of days.

On the third day, the team split up on one of the lower floors, where the shadows were weaker, to fish around for loot, and Crow quickly realized this was a pretense to trap him alone in a safe room. Joker stood barring the door—and he looked far more intimidating in this palace than he ever had standing around in Leblanc. Maybe because of how many shadows Crow had seen him kill, dressed like that.

“We're _going_ to talk,” Joker said, and his voice was tight.

Crow could tell he wasn't going to be able to smile and lie his way out of this. “We're not. There's nothing to talk about.” He moved to push past Joker.

But Joker didn't just block his way. He grabbed Crow by the shoulders and slammed him down onto the table in the center of the room. “We're going. To. Talk.” Then he reached forward and ripped off Goro's Crow mask, tossing it across the room, before doing the same with his own.

It had been a lot easier when they'd kept masks on.

Akira pulled back, letting Goro stand up again, but now Goro knew Akira wasn't going to let him out of this room that easily.

“I just want you to know,” Akira began, eyes steely, “That whatever's going on. Whatever your reasons are. That doesn't matter to me. I…” He paused. Swallowed. “I love you. No matter what.”

Goro was stunned. All he could do was stand there and stutter, “Wh-what?”

“I love you!” Akira repeated, more boldly, almost yelling. “Whatever happens, that won't change.”

Goro shook his head, less an attempt to negate what Akira said, and more trying to shake himself back into functioning. “Why?”

The question seemed to take Akira aback. “Why? I mean, you're smart, funny, cute, you've got this _take care of me_ vibe that's pretty irresistible, you're really driven and you can be pretty intense, but also silly, you have good taste in cake, you're low-key awkward in an adorable way, you've got a great ass—”

“That's enough, I get it!” Goro waved his hands to cut him off before his list got any more embarrassing and ass-related. He didn't need Akira to go on. Everything Akira had just said about him was just shallow bullshit that had nothing to do with who he really was. He'd heard similar gushing from fans of his a million times before. It meant nothing. “You're wrong.”

“Wrong? About what?” Akira was close. Too close in his space.

“About…everything. About me. You don't know me, not really. You met me what, a few months ago? What do you think you can learn about someone in that time?”

“ _Everything,_ ” Akira insisted, taking Goro's hand in both of his and squeezing it hard enough that Goro didn't think he could take his hand back. “Enough. I know enough.”

Goro couldn't look him in the eye. “Futaba texted me a while ago and asked me to break up with you. She said I'm no good for you. And she's right.”

“I heard about that,” Akira said softly. “And I was pretty pissed. Did you seriously try to break up with me over text because Futaba asked you to?”

_I've tried to break up with you over and over. I never wanted to be in a relationship with you to begin with. And does this even count as a relationship? When did I agree to this?_ The words stuck in Goro's throat. “I assumed it was over, anyway.”

“It's _not_ over,” Akira insisted, moving into Goro's space until they were almost touching. Goro felt his pulse accelerate. He wanted his mask back. The back of his thighs were pressed against the table. He was cornered.

Goro didn't even know how to argue with him. Their entire relationship had been predicated on this. Akira pushing. And Goro at a loss, half-wanting it _(more than half-wanting it)_ and unable to turn him down.

What else could he say?

Goro looked at a spot near Akira's chin, hoping it looked as if he were looking him in the eye, and said, “All my smiles…are fake. My personality…is fake. My life…is fake. Everything about me is fake. _You. Don't. Know. Me._ ”

Goro saw Akira's lips curl, but Goro refused to look as far as his eyes.

“What the hell makes you think _my_ smiles are real?” Akira said, and his voice was raw.

But before Goro even had the time to react, Akira grabbed him by the hair and kissed him, hard.

Goro kissed back, partly out of reflex, partly out of—out of the _intensity_ of Akira's grip on his hair, the other fisted in his coat, as Akira devoured him as if he were sucking the life out of Goro through his mouth.

Akira broke away, but his fingers immediately went to work on the buttons of Goro's jacket, and oddly—in the way of a lot of things in the metaverse, he didn't even really have to undo them properly. They just sort of melted apart, revealing Goro's bare chest underneath.

Akira shoved Goro down on the table for the second time, more forcefully than the first, and Goro was certain his back would be bruised. Akira immediately dove in, going straight for Goro's neck and biting down hard enough to make Goro cry out. Then he sucked, proceeding to mark Goro's neck, shoulders and chest with more hickeys than he'd ever given him in their entire relationship up until this point.

Goro just lay there and took it, his fingers clenched over the edge of the table. It was hard to pretend he didn't want it when he was already hard and swallowing moans, and Akira was rubbing him through his pants and making it worse.

Without warning Akira flipped him over, then started grinding his own hard-on against Goro's ass from behind—insistent, impatient, demanding. He wrapped both his arms around Goro's chest, pressing Goro down into the table as he dry-humped his ass. Goro just braced his elbows on the table and shuddered underneath Akira, arching back against the hard length pressing into the cleft of his ass through his pants.

“ _I'm not letting you go,_ ” Akira practically growled in his ear, squeezing his arms around Goro tighter, almost to the point of pain. “ _Not ever.”_

He'd never seen Akira this—this angry, this possessive, this demanding. Akira was always easygoing. Friendly. Generous.

Maybe Goro didn't know Akira, either.

One of Akira's hands reached down to slide under the tunic of Goro's jacket and undo his pants. When Goro felt the leather of his glove on his bare cock, he gasped, and Akira didn't waste any time at all, starting to jerk him at a steady pace. Goro's knees wobbled. Trapped between the rubbing against his ass from behind and Akira's glove pumping his dick, it was the best he could do just to stay on his feet.

“You want this, don't you?” Akira murmured in his ear. Goro didn't even have to reply. The slick of his precum on Akira's glove answered for him. “You want this more than anything.”

Flushed in arousal and the humiliation of his submission, Goro replied, hating how breathy he sounded, “It's…just sex.”

“It's _not just sex._ ” Akira punctuated each word with a roll of his hips against Goro's ass, and Goro bit his lip to smother a moan. “I know you feel it, too. _I know you do._ ” He shifted over Goro, leaning in to whisper right in his ear, his breath tickling Goro's cheek. “ _I know you beat off to thoughts of me,_ ” he said as his thumb swiped over the head of Goro's cock. “ _I know you've been more intimate with me than anyone else you've ever met,_ ” he said as the squeeze of his hand wrung a cry from Goro's throat. “ _I know you're jealous of me,_ ” he said as his cock ground into the line of Goro's ass, rolling his whole length against Goro so he would know just how hard Akira was. “ _I know you're insecure. I know you hate me. And I know you want to_ belong to me.”

It was too much. Goro came into Akira's hand with a smothered cry, Akira's grip squeezing tight around him, and Akira kept on grinding, pace accelerating until he finally pressed himself flush against the cleft of Goro's ass with a shudder, muttering Goro's name and burying his face in Goro's hair, arm locked around him.

They remained like that for a while. Goro's heart was still racing, and he could Akira's heart pounding against his back, too.

Now that it was over, he could start to think clearly again, and he managed to push off the table and disentangle himself from Akira, who was in that post-orgasm wobbly state and didn't put up much of a fight. He just looked at the cum on his glove, then promptly decided to dispose of it—by licking it up, heavy-lidded eyes turned toward Goro the whole time.

Goro just stared at him for a moment before gathering himself, doing up his pants, and buttoning up his tunic jacket.

Black pants covered cum stains rather well. But looking down, Goro could just barely see the evidence in Akira's crotch area. He made no move to do anything about it.

Goro just stood there for a moment, trying to pull himself together and failing. Why did Akira always make him feel like he was coming undone at the seams?

Akira didn't say anything for a while, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking a lot less like Joker and more like regular Akira, staring into a space somewhere over Goro's left shoulder. But then he caught Goro's eye, opened his mouth, and his lips said—

“ _I know you love me.”_

and Goro's face twisted up in an expression of—of _something,_ he didn't know what, and he felt some kind of pressure inside him building, a feeling that could only really be relieved with screaming or violence or something else, he didn't know—so he did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

He didn't know if Akira followed him, and he wasn't even capable of thinking about it. He just pushed his way out the safe room door and scrambled down the hallway, stumbling, desperate to get away. There was a throbbing pressure in his head that just kept building and building until he felt like he would puke, but he didn't, _couldn't,_ so he just kept running until the agony of it brought him to his knees.

He'd felt something like this before. More than once. But this was worse. There was no way something could hurt this much and not kill him.

He pressed his hands against his face where his mask would have been—and felt it was bleeding. He screamed and hit the floor, curled up on himself, hardly even noticing the shadows that gathered around him, one of them swiping out to rake its claws down his back—the pain of the injury was overpowered by the agony of the demon tearing its way through his brain, shattering through his skull—

_Wiltst thou ignore thy heart's voice speaking true?_

_Thy greatest love sprung from thy greatest hate._

_Deny thy father and refuse thy name!_

_Accept thee the mask of night on thy face!_

_Not by the moon, but by thy gracious self—_

_do swear that I am thou, and thou art I._

He whispered her name, and she healed him.

x x x

When Joker found him, Crow was standing there calmly, shadows dead and melting around him. His mask had re-appeared.

“The others will be waiting for us,” Crow said, walking past Joker toward the safe room. As he passed, he touched Joker's shoulder, letting his hand linger just a bit, before moving on.

Joker turned to look at him, and though his face was hidden, his concern was apparent in his body language.

Crow smiled under his mask at Joker, and—it was getting hard to tell if these smiles were real or fake. “I'm fine. Let's go meet up with the others.”

Joker's skepticism could have filled buckets, but it had been quite a while since they'd split up, and he knew just as well as Crow did they really had to be getting back.

They didn't talk for the rest of the day, but Goro felt more at ease around Joker, as if a dam had broken and the strain of denial was done. He had accepted his feelings, and that was its own sort of relief.

Despair was a sort of relief.

x x x

Goro stopped fighting it, after that. Now that he knew how it was all going to end, so many of the insignificant anxieties that had plagued him before just melted away. For a very long time, he'd wanted to pretend to not give a fuck, but now, for the first time in his life, he truly did not give a fuck. This was a truly strange side effect of hitting absolute rock-bottom, apparently.

If you know you're going to die anyway, then nothing you do now matters, and if nothing matters, you can do anything.

So Goro let Akira have his way. He indulged in every petty impulse. He shocked all the Thieves—Akira included—by pushing aside his mask one day just to kiss Joker in front of everyone, claim him as his own, and enjoyed their varying reactions of shock, indignation and anger. There was a thrill to be had in deliberately antagonizing people, and it was honestly quite strange he'd never even considered playing the heel before.

Why had he ever put so much effort into trying to get people to like him? It was hopeless, anyway.

Akira's attitude toward him had changed, too, but that was to be expected. Akira only ever spoke to him when they both had masks on, and only ever touched him in the metaverse. And when he did speak, it was an order, and when he touched Crow, it was a demand. It was as if Crow only ever saw the legend, Joker, and not the boy, Akira.

But that was fine. It was easier that way.

Unexpectedly, one afternoon, Akira texted him privately, asking him to come over to Mementos. Goro was a bit confused, but went nevertheless, arriving to find Akira there as Joker, standing in front of the ticket gate.

His white Crow outfit materializing around his body, Goro approached him. “What's this about, Joker?” he asked. It felt like it had been a long time since he'd last said _Akira._

Joker shrugged and turned away, passing through the ticket gate as if he expected Crow to follow. “I just wanted to let off some steam by killing shadows. You enjoy it too, don't you?”

Crow couldn't deny that he did. But he didn't bother answering, and just followed Joker down into the bowels of Mementos.

Without Mona, exploring this place involved a hell of a lot of endurance running, but when it was just him and Joker, they moved a lot faster, racing past shadows that weren't worth their time to get to the juicy bits.

Joker had grown to the point where Crow was no longer holding back with Robin Hood, and the realization of his strength made Crow shiver. Seeing him take out a whole pack of shadows with one well-placed spell, over and over again, was simultaneously exhilarating, terrifying, and maddening. The more he saw of this, the more he desperately wanted to let Loki rip out of him to devour Joker alive.

After one particularly brutal fight, after which the two of them were left standing there with the ooze of exploded shadows dripping down their faces, Joker turned to look at him and said, “You really do love this.” His mouth below his mask was grinning. “What is it about this that does it for you? Is it the challenge? The violence? The power? The risk?” As Joker spoke, he walked slowly toward Crow until he was right in Crow's space, then leaned into his ear. “With me, it's _all of the above._ ” Then he grabbed Crow's wrist and pressed his gloved hand against his own crotch so Crow could feel he was hard.

“Is this why you invited me here?” Crow asked, smirking.

But Joker didn't answer—at least not with words. He undid his pants, knocked the mask off Crow's face, and shoved Goro's shoulders down to make Goro swallow his dick.

Goro was a little startled, but not shocked—Joker had just been like this lately, and Goro…wasn't entirely averse to it. He just focused on not choking as Joker fucked his face, hands clenched in his hair. Goro's hand's moved up to Joker's hips in attempt to control his force a bit, but Joker's hands just squeezed tighter until Goro's eyes watered with the pain of the pull, and Joker refused to slow down, thrusting all the way to the back of Goro's throat and making Goro gag around his dick over and over.

After what felt like an eternity, Joker shot his load straight down the back of Goro's throat, and then pulled out to leave Goro gasping for air.

As Joker arranged his pants, he said, totally unprompted, “You were looking like you'd rather fight me than shadows. So I figured I'd give you a little something to struggle with.”

Still on his knees, a line of saliva still dripping from his mouth, Goro glared up at Joker.

“And maybe you should do something about that,” Joker added, gesturing toward Goro's obvious erection. “Did you enjoy getting face-fucked that much?” He gave a derisive snort, then spun around and continued down the tunnel.

Surprise quickly turned to seething rage. Before Joker could go more than a few steps, Robin Hood had burst out of Crow's head and slammed Joker face-down on the wet, sticky floor of Mementos, grabbing his wrists in one large hand to pull them behind his back, the other pressing Joker's head to the ground.

Crow stood up and casually walked up to Joker, crouching in front of him. His Crow's mask had already reappeared, protecting him. “Are you trying to _bait_ me, Joker?” he said, tone jovial. “Are you _trying_ to get me pissed at you?”

Face turned to the side, his cheek pressed into the nameless muck that covered Mementos' floor with Robin Hood's massive hand clenched in his hair, Joker replied, “If I am, it only works because you have the self-control of a ten-year-old.”

Robin Hood yanked Joker's arms, making him cry out. That didn't shut Joker's mouth, however. “See? Look what I just said.” His eyeballs rotated up to look at the expression of fury plain on Goro's face, even with his mask on. “It's a good thing you're cute when you're angry.”

Crow bared his teeth in a mean grin. “Do you trust me, Joker?” he said, reaching out to trace Joker's lips with a gloved thumb. Joker's lips were still, impassive. Crow ripped the Joker's mask off Akira's face and tossed it aside, leaving him vulnerable in just the way he'd done to Goro not moments ago.

When they'd fought together, Joker always kept an eye on him—Joker never fully trusted his back to Crow the way he did with his other allies. He was holding out. He never really gave himself to Crow.

Crow already knew the answer to his question. He just wanted to hear it from Joker's lips.

Instead of answering, Joker asked back, “Do you trust me?”

What a strange thing for someone to ask when they were pinned to the ground, helpless and alone.

“No,” Crow answered honestly.

He examined Akira's face for a reaction, anger, disgust, anything, but his face was just as much of a mask as his white Joker mask had been. It told Crow nothing.

This, more than anything, made him furious. How could Akira always know? Why could he always read Goro like a book? How could Akira always reach inside him and clench his hands around Goro's insides and _wrench_ but Goro could never return the favour? Why was _he_ always in the position of power, dictating how things would be between them, dictating that anything was happening at _all?_ How did he get off acting like he knew more about everything, like he was trying to _save_ poor, sad Goro Akechi from himself, acting like he understood everything Goro felt when he didn't know a _single fucking thing?_

Akira was _always_ in control of things. Always, _always._ And Goro was stumbling, fumbling, trying to figure out how to do it right and failing.

Goro wanted drag him down from his pedestal and fuck him against it. He wanted to hurt Akira as badly as he'd been hurt. No, _more._

“I think it's time for me to get my due,” Crow said.

Robin Hood yanked Akira to his knees, and Crow undid did his pants, grabbed Akira by the hair and forced his cock into Akira's mouth. He then proceeded to fuck Akira's mouth even more brutally than Akira had done to him, while behind Akira, Robin Hood pushed aside Joker's cloak and tore open his pants with his bare hands as the persona exposed its own cock, looming over Akira.

“You can't see from this angle,” Crow said in an even, sadistic tone as he petted Akira's hair, “so I'll let you know: Robin Hood's dick is _really_ big. Hope you're ready for it.”

Robin Hood's dick was slick with the same sort of shadow goo that coated the floor of Mementos as the persona pressed the tip of its sizable cock against Joker's entrance. Akira's throat moaned around Crow's dick, and Goro pulled back just so he could hear more of Akira's pain.

“What was that?” Crow said, putting mocking hand to his ear. “It hurts, Crow, please stop?”

Akira just sneered up at him. “Don't flatter yourself. I've had bigger.”

Robin Hood thrust in all the way, and Akira screamed.

When Robin Hood started fucking him, the only thing keeping Akira up was Robin Hood's grip on his arms holding him on his knees. He was limp in Robin Hood's grip as the persona railed his ass mercilessly, and Crow spend a few moments standing back, jerking himself idly as he enjoyed the sight of Joker completely at Robin Hood's mercy. Akira wasn't the type to hold back his moans, either, and he cried out on every other thrust, his face an exposed show of pain and want.

“Had about enough, yet?” Crow asked after one particularly vicious thrust made Akira scream again.

Panting, Akira looked up at him through the curls of his hair stuck to his sweaty face and smirked. “Cognition is a funny thing,” he said, voice surprisingly even as Robin Hood continued to pound into him. “Maybe it's a monster dick in the metaverse. But knowing how big _your_ dick is in the real world?” His smirk deepened. “I can hardly feel it.”

It was so obvious Akira was baiting him, but Crow was too enraged at this point to give a shit. He grabbed Akira's curls and fucked his face in time with Robin Hood's thrusts, enjoying every single moan, choke, and gag around his cock. He could feel Loki seethe within him, feel the black stripe running up his back like blazing fire, the gloves on his hands wafting black mist as their colour wavered, halfway between black and white, red and blue. His hands burned, and he clenched them harder in Akira's hair, the pain only pushing him harder and faster until tears streamed from Akira's eyes, and Crow and Robin Hood came simultaneously, filling Akira from both ends as Akira's body shook in their grip.

Instantly, Robin Hood vanished, along with the black oozing into his costume. Akira would have been too far gone to notice any of it, anyway. Crow turned away, tucking himself away and doing up his pants. He could hear Akira panting on the ground behind him, but didn't look back.

Finally, he heard Akira say, throat raw from the ordeal, “So what? Is that the real you, then?”

“Not even fucking close,” Crow said, and he stalked away, back to the gates of Mementos, leaving Akira behind, and Akira didn't follow.

x x x

A couple days before they were scheduled to send the notice to Sae, Akira suddenly appeared outside the front gates of Goro's school, the first Goro had seen him outside of the metaverse in about a month.

There was something different about his face. “You're not wearing your glasses,” Goro commented.

“I couldn't find them this morning. They're fake, anyway,” Akira said. “I don't actually need them to see.”

Goro hadn't known this. But he didn't have anything to say in reply.

Akira didn't say much either, just smiled at him, and they took the train back to Goro's apartment in silence.

Once they were in Goro's apartment, right inside the door, Akira hesitated, not taking off his shoes. It was as if he wasn't sure if he should go in all the way, or not.

Goro took his shoes off and stood in the kitchen area, looking back at Akira. They'd come this far out of habit. But how that Akira was here, he didn't know what to say, either.

Akira looked a little dishevelled, a little like he'd slept in his clothes and just rolled out of bed like that. Did that mean anything? He always sort of looked like that, anyway. Maybe he just came off differently without his glasses. Akira's hand slid into his bag as if he was going to fish for something, then pulled out again, empty.

Goro noticed he was staring at Akira, but Akira wasn't looking at him. His gaze was wandering all around the apartment as if he'd never been there before, soaking up all the details. His eye landed on the cactus on Goro's desk, and he smiled. “You've been taking care of it.”

“Huh?” Goro turned around to look at the cactus. It was green. It looked fine. “Of course. It's not that hard to take care of a cactus.”

Akira didn't say anything, just kept smiling, and Goro didn't know how to react. It wasn't anything important. Just a cactus Akira had gotten for free and given to him on a whim. And his apartment could use a plant.

Akira's hand slid into his bag, and he pulled out a little USB thumb drive, and held it out to Goro.

A little confused, Goro took it. “What's this?”

“Just some music I like. I know you're not much of a music person, but you might be into it. You should listen to it.” The smile slowly faded off Akira's face, and then he turned around and put his hand on the doorknob. “Anyway, I should actually go. See you tomorrow.”

He walked out, and part of Goro wanted to stop him, felt maybe, he should, but he didn't even begin to know how he could.

x x x

The day before the Thieves sent their notice to Sae, Goro visited Shido's palace.

He stood outside on the deck, just looking at the ship in its entirety. He didn't need to explore the place. He already knew it, inside and out.

All the arrangements had been made. Everything was in order. All that remained was to knock all the dominoes down.

Goro had visited Shido's palace about a million times already. Early on, when he'd first awakened to his powers, this had been one of the first palaces he'd ever attempted to invade—and he'd failed violently, completely unprepared for the power or scale that was the world of Shido's mind.

Shido had been so hopelessly beyond his reach.

This was where Loki had awakened within him. At the point of despair, when he'd lain bloodied and at the mercy of a dozen shadows, Loki had come to him and blackened the shadows with madness, turning them upon each other. That had been the turning point—when he'd given up on challenging Shido's palace directly and decided on something more brutal, instead. Something that would hurt a lot more.

He came back here now to remind himself why he'd been fighting for the past two years.

Over that span of time, Goro had come back to this place again and again. He wouldn't deny that it was an obsession for him. It was the root of his obsession, in fact, the fuel that kept it burning. The landscape of sunken Tokyo was his poison. In his most honest moments, he admitted to himself that he hated it because it was the embodiment of his own reality, the world as he would have made it himself, had he the power—only in Goro's version, the boat would be sunk, too, along with the rest of the city.

The air here made him sick, the pomp and splendour of the boat was more nauseating than its pitching on the waves, the shadows of all the filthy, piece-of-shit wealthy socialites and politicians and bankers and CEOs underworld goons he knew in real life made his skin crawl, and the carbon copy of himself he occasionally got glimpses of was the worst of them all. He hated, loathed, _abhorred_ this place, and that was why he kept coming back—to dig his fingers into the wound and feel it hurt.

This feeling was the most acute, the most permanent, the most _real_ thing that had ever occupied his life. Sometimes, he had to come here to feel anything at all.

When he stood here, he was the real Goro Akechi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to William Shakespeare for desecrating his work and taking all of those lines totally out of context for the sake of gay fanfiction porn.  
> …He'd probably be for gay fanfiction porn, though, considering he was all about RPF and homolust. Let's do it the Shakespearean way and put Goro in an Elizabethan dress and Pego in a codpiece and tights. Life is a stage, so let's all cross-dress. That's how the quote goes, right?
> 
> I went to so much trouble to maintain iambic pentameter in that persona speech...


	6. Incapacitation

Walking down the hallway to the prisoner's cell, Goro felt disconnected from himself, almost as if he were separate person hovering outside his own body, giving instructions to the vessel called Goro Akechi.

He lied to the guard, entered the cell, stole the gun, shot the guard. Pointed the gun at the prisoner. Goro's mask was gone. His face was vacant.

“Are you surprised?”

He'd had a speech. A whole unnecessary villain's monologue to boast about how he'd bested the hero. He'd fantasized about it many times, imagined how the prisoner would react, with humiliation or anger upon his defeat. He'd imagined he would soak in that moment of victory as long as he could, really rub it in before he ended it. In his mind, this moment had been the sub-climax before his final victory.

But he couldn't even remember what he'd meant to say. He found himself staring at the prisoner, examining his face, trying to pick up some kind of reaction. Anger? Betrayal? Heartbreak? Despair?

He couldn't find anything. Just…vague surprise.

Was that it?

_Was that it?_

“This is who I really am,” Goro said, voice flat.

The prisoner was just sitting there. Why wouldn't he say something? _Say something. Say something._ _Say something._

Goro kept his gun hand steady. Steady. Steady.

Steady.

_This will hurt me more than it ever hurt you._

Goro squeezed the trigger.

Blood splatter. It sure felt different, in the real world. It was a good thing he was used to this. _Thump._ The body fell.

Suppressor off. Step. Step forward. Put the gun in his hands.

Turn around. Step. Step. Step forward. Touch the doorknob. Twist the doorknob. Push the door. Go through the door. Close the door.

The body was out of sight.

x x x

His steps were automatic. His call to Shido was automatic. His pleasantries to Sae were automatic. It was all so very easy, somehow. Easier to be this person, now. All of that struggling now seemed strange and distant. This was who he'd always been.

He got back to his apartment, only meaning to stop there briefly before going out again, when he noticed something on the kitchen counter that shouldn't have been there.

He'd disposed of everything unnecessary in his apartment the previous night. He'd gotten rid of just about everything aside from the bare essentials. He was used to having nothing. All that unnecessary garbage that had piled up in his apartment was now cleared away. He'd had too much of everything. Now it was pristine here. Empty.

He didn't need anything.

Why was that thing there on the counter?

He should throw it out.

He picked it up. Held it over the garbage. But then he brought the hand back to his chest.

He took the USB stick over to his desk and stuck it in his laptop. Sat down in his chair.

Stupid. Stupid. Hadn't he kicked that habit of self-harm? That was all this was. Self-harm. Nothing good would come of it. It wouldn't help anything. It was too late. _Stop._

He turned on his laptop, opened it up, and looked at the contents of the USB. Audio files. Music. His laptop speakers weren't very good, so he plugged in his headphones. He selected all of them and played them as a playlist.

He wasn't much of a music person. He didn't really like this music.

He listened through one song. Two. Three. He pushed the laptop aside so he could lower his head down onto the desk on his arms. The music wasn't really good. Four songs. Five songs.

There were songs about trust.

Love.

Pain.

Lies.

Betrayal.

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

By the time Goro realized he was crying, his sleeve was already soaked.

_You knew…you fucking_ knew.

He held his head in his hands and screamed. He wanted to pick something up to smash it, but he'd gotten rid of everything already. There was nothing left here. There was nothing more to destroy. This apartment was empty. He'd _made_ it empty.

He needed to be angry, but he couldn't twist his feelings in the direction he wanted them to go.

He just leaned back in his chair, hands over his face, shaking with the force of will necessary to choke back sobs as tears streaked down his cheeks.

This wasn't okay. He'd stopped this. Goro Akechi didn't cry anymore. That was over. This was wrong.

_Control yourself. Control yourself._

He cringed in on himself, folding into his own lap. He couldn't stop crying. He could barely stop himself from screaming.

He always did this. Hadn't he known that? He was always the cause of everything good in his life being forcibly excised. There was that sick darkness that had always been there, down at his core that poisoned everything around him, one way or another. This was just another manifestation of that. Another act of cruelty on a long, long list.

He

knew

he

was

evil.

x x x

Goro spent the next few days curled up in his futon. He didn't eat much. He turned off his phone and ignored all calls, mostly from Shido. He knew this was an extremely bad idea, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn't bring himself to care about much of anything, really. He would pay for it later, probably.

Drifting in the space between sleep and consciousness, he saw Akira's face, right before Goro had shot him. He remembered every minute detail of it. He examined it in his mind over and over, but came up with nothing. It told him nothing. Akira's mask had been better than his own. He'd never been able to read Akira. Akira read him. Akira got into him. It was uni-directional. Akira had reached in and held Goro's heart in his hands and _squeezed_ and Goro had been forced to sit there, whimper, and take it.

_Is that why you killed him?_

No. That wasn't why. There had been a reason. He'd been forced into it.

_Were you really?_

He'd had to do it.

_Was this really about Shido?_

It was always about Shido.

_You hated him._

He loved him.

_Then why did you do it?_

Why did he do it?

_Because that's who you are._

x x x

Why had Akira walked into it? That was the question he kept coming back to. Akira had known. He had _known._ So why walk into it?

It just didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

Why would Akira _forgive_ him and then _walk into it?_

Akira had let it happen. He hadn't said a word. Why hadn't he said anything?

He should have fought. He should have struggled. He should have pleaded. It was his fault. He let it happen.

When had Goro become so bad at convincing himself?

x x x

**Tell us, Goro Akechi, for all the viewers at home: how do you do it? How do you be Goro Akechi?**

_Well, it's simple, actually. You might say it comes naturally._ He smiled for the crowd.

**Ohh, we're all dying to hear this.**

_Well, it's largely genetic. Based off my genetic traits, I had a fifty percent chance of becoming_ evil _and a fifty percent chance of becoming_ unworthy of love **.**

**Oh, well! I can see you've been blessed with traits from both your mother and your father!**

_Aha-ha, what can I say? I do try my best to live up to my parents' legacy._ He smiled again. The audience applauded.

x x x

Sometimes, their positions were reversed, and Goro was the one sitting in that chair, waiting for Akira to fire. Goro would be explaining patiently, logically, calmly, why it was best that Akira shoot him, but Akira never did what he said. He kept screwing up Goro's carefully-laid plans. Every time, Akira would shake his head and point the gun at himself instead. Then shoot.

That was what Goro had made him do, right?

That was what Goro should have done.

x x x

In the other fantasy, they both pointed guns at each other and fired simultaneously. This was a good fantasy. This was the best way possible to end things. The only problem was Shido. Shido was Goro's chain. He could not let it end until Shido was dead. Once Shido was dead, he could finally rest.

If he was going to kill Shido, he had to get out of bed. But it was so impossibly hard.

He had to get up. He had to kill Shido.

The phone rang.

He might as well take it.

“What?” He answered.

“I was starting to think you were dead,” came Shido's voice, sounding more than slightly annoyed. “Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you for days. Look. Akira Kurusu's been missing. There's no body, no nothing. You told me you killed him. Just what the hell happened?” There was a threatening edge to his voice.

Goro just about dropped the phone.

“You haven't decided to switch sides on me, have you? You know how foolish that would be.” Shido was sounding suspicious as fuck.

But Goro really didn't care. He hung up on Shido. Left the phone there. He had to go, _now._

He stood up, and staggered. He felt dizzy. When was the last time he'd eaten? He wasn't quite sure. He'd thrown out everything in his fridge. There was nothing left to eat. But he didn't have time to go to the convenience store. He had to go, _now._

x x x

They had to be in here, somewhere, somewhere in Shido's gigantic, disgusting pleasure yacht. He knew they would be here. They would be idiots not to be here, and Akira was no idiot. Goro found the signs of their passing—raided loot, hallways clear of shadows.

_Where are you, Akira? Akira._

Finally, finally, he cornered them in the engine room, leaping down from above to land behind the group of Phantom Thieves. Akira's face was covered with his Joker's mask, as usual, and Goro could see nothing there. He was going to rip that mask off, and rip off the mask underneath that, too, and keep ripping and ripping until he'd hurt Akira enough that he would understand a fraction of what he'd done to Goro.

He made his speech. This was it. He had a chance to do it over. Get it right. He was hitting all the beats. Dramatic entrance. Villain's speech. And next. He would _show_ Akira _his true power._

Loki burst out of him in with a pain that was like release, ripping across white to stripe him in black and blue, protect him with a helmet to cover his face better than the Crow mask ever could. In here, he was safe. The rest of the world, Loki would tear apart. He'd never used Loki's power to drive himself to madness before, but why not? He was already there, anyway.

He could hardly even see the other Thieves. Their attacks meant nothing to him. A little bit of blood, a little bit of pain, a few broken bones, they were nothing. Goro just sent Loki flying straight for Akira.

_Akira._ _Akira. Akira._

Loki charged like a battlesteed, orange-glow sword pulled back, white lights coiling around its blade as it charged to deliver its blessings.

_Laevateinn._

_For you. And for me._

Joker was swooping toward him on the back of a metal angel, leaning forward precariously with his arm outstretched, and on his lips was _Goro._

_Don't._

Goro fell to his knees. His head throbbed. He looked down at his arms. The cloth covering them was melting, shifting. His hands were bared. Blue changed to red. Red and black. _His_ colors. The belts that bound his limbs loosened and vanished, to be replaced by a constriction in his chest. The protection of his mask vanished, leaving him exposed for the briefest moment before his sight was robbed from him, an eyeless black mask pulled tight over his face.

Love is blind, after all.

The instant before Joker leaped down on him from his metal angel, Juliet burst from beneath his mask in a spurt of blood. She was small, drowning in the billows of her long brown hair and her dress of red and black, androgynous in the way of a girl just past the cusp of adolescence. Her face was a masquerade-style black mask, the patterns of her dress evoked bleeding from the heart, and she wore a shawl of nameless roses with thorns that pierced her own skin even as they threatened to bite those who might attempt to steal her blooms. In her left hand, she held a dagger.

She flew straight for Loki _(how could he still be there?)_ , grabbing the braids at the back of the persona's head in a fist and yanking back with a force that belied her willowy stature. The white of her hand was as pale as death, as pale as the white stripes of Loki's skin as her right arm reached around to thrust violently into the slit of Loki's mask-like face, all the way up to the elbow. Loki reared back, dropping his sword as he flailed with his orange claws, scraping at his assailant, marring her pretty white arms with stripes of black shadow blood as he tried to pry her arm out. But she didn't let go.

Sick, oozing green pulsed down Juliet's arm and into Loki's face. It didn't seem to do anything at first, but then Loki started twitching and bucking as dark green lines spread from his face down its neck and straight through to its heart.

Poison.

Loki shook. Blurred at the edges. And then exploded, splattering everyone and everything around in a burst of dripping black goo.

Suddenly, Goro could hear someone screaming, quiet as if far away, then getting closer. As the clarity returned to his mind, Loki's black madness draining away from him, he realized it was himself, and Goro felt himself struggling and flailing in futility as someone held him pinned to the ground. The warm hands squeezing his arms and the weight on his stomach felt familiar. If he could just stop _screaming_ for a moment he would be able to hear what the person was saying—

He felt warmth against his cheeks. It wasn't _his_ hands. The angle was wrong. They weren't the right shape. They were coming from behind him. He could recognize his own persona, even blinded. Her touch hurt, but it was a calming hurt. His body relaxed, and he gasped for air instead of screaming.

As Juliet put him to sleep, finally, he could hear Akira saying, “Goro, Goro, are you okay? Goro!”

x x x

He dreamed ridiculous, silly dreams of holding hands, going to the movies, studying together, hanging out together with all their friends. In these dreams, they were both always smiling and joking around, and everything was trivial and fun, and it was sunny every day, and there were no colds or stubbed toes or anything bad. They had curry for breakfast and cake for dinner. And coffee, coffee, more coffee. Goro couldn't get enough of it. And then Goro would fall asleep at night with Akira in his arms, saying, _I love you,_ and Akira said, _I love you, too._

Even in his dreams, he couldn't quite convince himself of the plausibility of any of this. It was like a saccharine TV show featuring a character that rather looked like him in a spin-off series based on his life: this one was considerably more lighthearted in tone, because that was what the viewers wanted.

Nobody wanted to face reality.

The more he tried to convince himself it was real, the more the faces of the people in the dream shifted, starting with just piece of them slightly off, body parts shrinking and elongating, refusing to hold together and stay as something concrete and believable. The world became cartoonish, flat, until they were literally all just living on a TV screen and Goro was watching himself watching himself.

Goro reached through himself, shattering the TV screen, to find Joker behind it, grinning, knives in his hands. Joker wound up, and Goro could see the stab coming a million miles away, but he didn't move, didn't dodge, he just let it happen, let the blade sink all the way to the hilt, right through his ribs and into his heart. Joker held the blade in there as he stood close, almost touching. He wouldn't pull the blade out again. He just held it there as blood oozed out of the wound slowly, leaning in so close that Goro could feel his breath. Slowly, Goro brought his hands up to Joker's neck.

x x x

When Goro woke up, he was still in the engine room of Shido's palace, and Joker was weighing down on him, knife pressed to his throat. Goro's hands were on Joker's throat, and he was squeezing as hard as he could as Joker's knife sliced into him slowly, slowly, refusing to do it fast, refusing to let it be over quickly.

Goro had to kill him. He couldn't bear to go to the other side alone.

Then there was a smack in his face. His head was pushed back against the pillows. His hands were ripped off Joker's neck and there was a hand on his face, holding him down. Goro blinked, and his vision corrected. A weight still lay heavy on him. But he wasn't lying on the cold floor in the engine room of Shido's yacht. He was in a bed. The light of day poured in through the window beside him. And a hand was pushed into his face, knees holding down his arms, and he could hear the person who was holding him down coughing and gasping.

Slowly, as Goro's mind pulled itself together, he realized he was in Akira's bed in the attic of Leblanc, and Akira was the one pinning him down. His body went limp, and he looked up at Akira.

Akira was finally catching his breath, but Goro could see red marks on his neck, and his face was streaked with tears. It seemed like he could breathe again, but he was still crying, tears dripping down from his chin onto the pillow above Goro's face as he sobbed.

Maybe it was because he wasn't fully awake yet. But Goro was confused. None of this made sense. Why was he still alive? Why was he here?

“Why are you crying?” he croaked.

Akira looked down at him, pulling his hand away from Goro's face and shifting his knees from Goro's arms down to his sides, while his hands gripped Goro's arms and pinned them, making sure he couldn't use them again. All that came out of his throat was sobs as he continued to cry.

“Why are you crying?” Goro repeated. He'd never seen Akira cry before. It was a baffling sight. It seemed wrong. What would Akira ever have to cry about?

Akira's mouth opened, and his lips moved, but it took a few moments for sound to come out. “Because you _want me dead_.”

The words didn't quite sink into Goro's mind.

“You _want me dead._ Over and over you— I tried everything. I gave you everything. Why won't you—” Akira's grip on Goro's forearms tightened, and Goro realized Akira was afraid Goro would try to strangle him again. He was protecting himself.

Akira's weight on top of him suddenly felt crushing. Suddenly, he felt like he was the one choking. When Akira's tears fell on his face, they were his own. Goro opened his mouth, but there were too many things he should be saying, to many things he had to say, that all jammed up near the top of his throat and prevented anything from getting out.

At some point, Akira's tears falling on his face became his own.

Slowly, Akira's grip on him loosened. He let go of Goro's arms and slid down to lie on top of him like a blanket, wrapping his arms around Goro, letting him bury his face in Akira's shoulder.

This was wrong. Akira had been the one hurt, here. Why was he comforting Goro? He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this. Goro had to give him something, anything, to compensate for all he'd taken. Tried to take.

“I'm sorry,” Goro choked. “I threw it all out. I threw out…everything. Everything…you ever gave me.” It sounded nonsensical even to his own ears, but Akira seemed to glean some sort of meaning from it, as he hugged Goro tighter.

“It's okay,” Akira murmured.

“It's not!” Goro yelled into Akira's shoulder, and he found his hands were clenched in Akira's shirt and shaking. He hated the way his voice sounded.

“It is. Trust me. It's okay. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn't,” Goro sobbed.

“But I do.”

Goro just kept crying against Akira, pathetic and loud, clinging to him, until he was run dry, and then they just lay there for a while, feeling each others' warmth.

x x x

“Are you hungry?” Akira asked, and it felt really out of the blue.

But now that he mentioned it, Goro was starving. “I don't remember the last time I ate,” he admitted.

“You're really bad at feeding yourself,” Akira said, rolling over to slide off the bed. “I'll go downstairs to get us something to eat.” He wiped at his face with his sleeve, but it still looked pretty obvious that he'd been crying. “I'll be back in a minute, okay?” He grabbed his glasses off the shelf and put them on (still didn't hide his red face), re-arranged his clothing to look less mussed (still looked like a mess) and pattered down the stairs.

Goro sat up and swung his legs out of the bed to find he was wearing the same T-shirt and sweatpants he'd been wearing when he'd stumbled out the door to head to Shido's palace. He felt hungry and rather weak. He smoothed down his hair with a hand, but quickly gave up. He probably looked like garbage. There was no saving this.

Before long, Akira came back. His face looked better, so he must have washed it while he was down there. He had a tray in each hand, piled up with a wide array of mismatched items in their dishes: toast with jam, rice, miso soup, cut-up oranges, probably-microwaved pieces of pre-cooked salmon, shredded cabbage with mayo, and orange juice and coffee for the both of them.

“Traditional breakfast or Western breakfast, pick one,” Goro muttered.

“Hey, beggars can't be choosers. And I'm sure you're hungry,” Akira said, and he gave Goro one tray, then plopped himself down on the bed beside him with his own tray on his knees. Apparently, they were going to eat right here.

Well, that was fine. Once Goro actually started eating, the hunger really hit him, and he bolted it down in record time. It all looked like it had been sitting in the fridge under plastic wrap for a couple of days, but somehow, it tasted like the best meal of his life.

Akira ate his meal at a slightly more sedate pace.

“How long was I asleep?” Goro asked as Akira finished off his meal.

“Not that long. Just the night. It's about noon, now.”

“Noon?!” Goro ran his hand through his hair, then sighed. “I suppose school is the least of my worries right now, though. I haven't been in a few days, anyway.”

“Neither have I,” Akira grinned at him. “To truancy!” He raised his glass of orange juice in a toast, then chugged the rest down.

Goro replied with a weak smile, then said, “Can I ask just how it is you're alive? I was pretty certain I'd killed you.”

“You're not gonna try that again, right? I'm not sure I can keep fending off murder attempts.” Akira's tone was humorous, but his face was turned down toward his food, his hair hiding his expression.

Was this really the first time Akira had ever shown him vulnerability? Or was this just the first Goro had ever allowed himself to notice?

“Never,” Goro said, and he was surprised by the intensity of his own voice. He opened his mouth to try to explain himself, but—he wasn't sure he even could explain it to himself. The sort of emotional reasoning and self-justification that had gone into his actions wouldn't make sense to anyone in their right mind. But how could he convince Akira that he was any different now?

“Loki…is completely gone,” Goro said, looking away from Akira. “I can't feel him anymore. I won't say…I'm a different person, but…the part of me that was ready to stab anyone and everyone in the back and bring about the Ragnarok…is dead.” Goro chanced a look at Akira.

Akira was looking back at him, a little smile on his face. “Your new persona's cuter, anyway.”

“Agh…” Goro went red, burying his face in his hands. “Can we not talk about that? I think the story of how you survived is rather more important.”

Akira looked like he was dying to needle Goro about Juliet, but he obediently explained the whole situation to Goro: about the Thieves's plan, and how the one Goro had killed had been the Cognitive Akira inside Sae's palace.

Goro had to laugh a little. “I guess…that explains it.” Akira put their trays over on his desk, and he scooched up close to Goro's side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Explains what?”

“When I…pointed a gun at that version of you, you seemed so…not bothered by it. I kept waiting for you to say something, to tell me…” Goro shook his head. “I think…if it had been the real you in there…I wouldn't have been able to do it.” Goro felt himself trembling a bit again, and Akira's arm around him squeezed tighter.

“Hey, we don't have to talk about this stuff right away, okay? You can wait until it's not so fresh.”

“I should be the one saying that to you! I tried to kill you! Multiple times!”

“Yeah…” Akira leaned onto Goro's shoulder, his other hand coming to rest over Goro's. “But…I'm feeling really good right now, so…it's okay.”

“There's something a little bit crazy about cuddling up with your would-be murderer…” Goro muttered.

“Oh, I'd like to do more than just cuddle,” Akira said teasingly, the hand that wasn't around Goro's waist sliding up Goro's thigh.

“…Your tastes are questionable.”

“I have excellent taste.” Akira kissed Goro slow, gentle, and then pulled back to say, “And you taste excellent.”

“And you taste like orange juice.”

“I can live with that.” And then Akira pushed Goro down on the bed, swinging his leg around to straddle him. “I think it's time for a little celebration.”

“Celebration? Of what?” Goro was playing coy, but he wasn't particularly averse to what Akira had in mind. His heart was already racing.

“Of…being alive? Isn't that enough?”

“…Yes. It's enough.” Goro grabbed Akira's head and brought him down into a kiss.

x x x

Goro meant to take it slow and enjoy things this time, but somehow, Akira always stripped away all his patience, and it wasn't long before their clothes were all tossed aside and Akira was on top of him, grinding their erections together. Goro spread his legs, wrapping them around Akira's waist as he pushed up against Akira's touch.

Akira nuzzled his neck and said, “Can I take it this means you want me to fuck you?” He sounded terribly hopeful.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Goro said, trying not to sound petulant. Probably failing.

“Well, I mean, you never wanted to, before,” Akira said, rocking his hips slowly against Goro's as he spoke. It made conversation very difficult.

Goro made an exasperated noise, but didn't say anything. That was partly because Akira was down for just about anything, and he would (usually) do things the way Goro wanted. It wasn't like Goro didn't want to try it (he'd thought about it more than he wanted to admit), it was just, on some level, he couldn't help feeling like anything he gave up, any pleasure he received, any control he ceded was a humiliation.

Unfortunately, that humiliation also made him really hard. But Akira didn't have to know that.

He was initiating this. He'd do it on his own terms, or not at all.

“Just fuck me,” Goro said, and Akira's eyes sparkled. Clearly, he was all too happy to acquiesce.

Akira started slow and gentle, pushing into him carefully with lubed fingers as he peppered kisses all over Goro's stomach. Somehow, the fact that he was so nice about it just made it more embarrassing. If he were just a little more demanding about it, a little rougher, Goro wouldn't have felt like he wanted to cover his face from Akira's gaze.

As Akira gently rubbed him from the inside, he leaned over to slide his lips over Goro's cock, and Goro's hips jumped at the contact. The sensation of both at once was overwhelming at first, and Goro sank into the pillow, trying not to moan.

Akira, however, seemed intent on getting noise out of him, as he picked up the pace of his sucking, dragging at the foreskin with his tongue as his head moved up and down, his eyes locked on Goro's the whole time. Goro found himself rocking his hips in time with Akira's bobbing, and Akira's rubs on that spot turned into a firm press and—

“S-stop, or I'll cum,” Goro said, pushing Akira's head away. Akira smirked around his dick.

“Just…do it already,” Goro said, trying not to betray just how badly he wanted it.

“Do what?” Akira purred, fingers still sliding slowly back and forth in Goro's ass. “You need to tell me what you want, or I won't know.”

“Agh! Just fuck me already!”

Akira beamed like that was exactly what he wanted to hear. Pulling his fingers out, he lubed himself up, and wiped off his fingers with a tissue, and then, with one arm wrapped around Goro's thigh, guiding his cock with the other hand, he slowly pushed into him.

The sensation wasn't entirely new to Goro—he'd played with himself more than a few times before—but the intensity of it was. He was quite familiar with the size of Akira's cock, but pushing into his ass, it felt massive.

But instead of pulling back, he pushed into it. Years of using Loki, who always brought a burst of pain upon his summoning, had left its mark on him. He was rather used to pushing through it. If he was being honest with himself, at some point, it had started feeling good.

Another thing he wouldn't be telling Akira.

Akira was being too slow, too delicate. Goro did not want to be treated like something delicate. He pushed down onto Akira's cock, forcing him all the way inside, smirking a little when Akira gasped.

“Hurry up,” Goro said, and his voice sounded a little less commanding than he'd intended and a little more desperate.

Akira was more than willing to acquiesce. First rocking, then thrusting, he pushed Goro's legs up until they were close to his ears and his face was right above Goro's. What started as an intense, tight and burning sensation slowly melted into something sweeter, and Goro quickly lost himself in it, softly moaning with each push Akira made inside him. At some point, Akira's hands caught his, holding them down to the bed, and Goro squeezed his hands back.

Akira's thrusts got rougher, deeper, and Goro pressed his hips into it, welcoming the impact of each slick motion. He could feel himself tightening around Akira's cock, and as he came with a soft cry, Akira kept going, harder, more ragged, riding out Goro's orgasm until he came himself, filling Goro's ass with his warmth.

Akira leaned over him, panting and dripping sweat, as he said, “Hands-free?! You've got to be kidding me. I'm so jealous.”

“I feel so smug to have finally beaten you at something,” Goro said sarcastically.

“There is _no_ need for that sarcasm, mister,” Akira said, bopping Goro on his nose. “You beat me where it counts.”

“Like how?”

“You're prettier than me. Taller than me. Wittier than me. And you can cum hands-free. I'd trade places with you in an instant.”

Goro had to chuckle. He felt a bit pink in the face. “Your standards are wrong.”

“So wrong they're right.” Akira pulled out and grabbed tissues for them to clean off with, and when that was done, dove straight into cuddle mode. Goro was okay with this.

“…So…what are you going to do about…” Goro began.

“Everything?”

“Mostly, I was talking about Shido. And the Phantom Thieves.”

Akira was sprawled on top of him, head over Goro's shoulder. He seemed to like playing blanket. A blanket with another blanket pulled on top of him, anyway. It was winter, after all. “Well, you know we've been going for his palace. So you could just come with us. Change his heart.”

“I'd really rather kill him.”

“Yeah, I get where you're coming from, but I'm not gonna let you do that.”

“I figured.” Not only was the picture of a reformed Shido completely unimaginable, even the attempt to envision it made Goro feel slightly ill.

“But you can still come with us,” Akira said gently, and his hands sought out Goro's. “I want you with me.”

“Do the others, though?” Goro asked, trying not to sound too bitter.

“I think it's not as bad as you're assuming.”

“I've literally killed the parents of two of your friends, Akira. And that's not counting the trying to kill _you_ part.”

“The trying to kill me part is my business,” Akira said firmly. “And…I think everyone'll understand, about Okumura, considering. And Futaba…” Akira paused. “She's more the type to direct negativity inward rather than outward. She wants to stop the bad guys as much as the rest of us. But she won't hold a grudge.”

Having him explain it that way was a little more convincing than assurances that Akira would make it work out somehow. “So you guys did see me in Okumura's palace.”

“I mean, I didn't. I was knocked out cold. But the others told me about it.” Akira wrapped his arms around Goro and squeezed uncomfortably tight. “It was driving us all crazy, trying to figure out who that was. After…after the interrogation, I'd just about given up. I was…so desperate to hold onto you, I'd opened my heart to you, and…” Akira trailed off, and Goro hugged him. He felt rather awkward about it, but he figured he owed Akira. And he wanted to do it.

“But when I saw you transform in Shido's palace, I knew…you didn't really want me dead. You didn't want any of us dead. And I was right.”

Goro opened his mouth to argue, but stopped. That was a very stupid thing to quibble about, right now. He settled for grumpily saying, “Congratulations, you won.”

“Would you have rather I lost?”

“…No.” Goro's victory would have meant his death. He wasn't really ready to tell Akira that, though. But maybe he already guessed. The implications were sort of there in his persona. “But I'm a sore loser, remember?”

“You didn't lose, though. We both won!”

This sounded like Akira trying to put a positive spin on things, but it wasn't wrong. Goro felt like a loser, but he'd also won something, too—something he'd long since given up hoping he would ever get.

Of course, he'd had it for a while, now. It had just taken him too damn long to accept it.

He still felt overwhelmed by this.

There were so many things he felt he should say, he wanted to say to Akira, but they kept getting stuck on the way out. …But hopefully, he would have lots of time to say them.

For now, he would just have to start with the first thing.

“…Akira…I…” he started hesitantly.

Akira pushed up a bit so he could see Goro's face. “Yeah?”

“…I…” he bit his lip.

“You can tell me aaaaanything,” Akira said, smushing Goro playfully with his thighs.

“…I…want you to help me go dumpster diving.”

That may not have been what Akira expected to hear. “…Huh?”

“…I threw out…all the things you gave me…including Mr. Sakura's cooking things…and the cactus…and the stuffed cat…” And most of his belongings in general. He'd figured he wouldn't need anything anymore. “…But it's not garbage day yet, so it should still all be there. I have to go get it all out of the dumpster.” He blushed a deep red. “I really don't want to do it.”

To his credit, Akira did not laugh at him. He just grinned. “Okay. It won't even be my first time, actually. I'll put on some crappy clothes, and let's go.” Akira got up and slid out of the bed.

Trying not to be (too) horrified at the revelation that Akira Kurusu the Violent Delinquent had a history of dumpster diving, Goro pushed off the covers and got dressed.

Goro wasn't sure if this feeling of being reborn would last. Maybe it was just a convenient lie he'd convinced himself into, and Loki was lurking beneath Juliet's mask. Or at least, maybe there were still some pieces of Loki inside him—there probably were, in fact. But now, every part of his heart was rejecting being that person. So maybe that would be enough. Maybe he could build himself into someone new. Someone who had something to give to Akira, instead of just taking.

When he was with Akira, he felt like he could become someone good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had a plan to reference some good Akechi songs, but I ended up not sticking them in. Anyway, so here are my picks for Good Akechi Songs, mostly ripped from MMDs on nico:
> 
> [Deco*27 Ghost Rule](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28M-EFT_O64) [translation](http://relmneiko.tumblr.com/post/177223623750/%E3%82%B4%E3%83%BC%E3%82%B9%E3%83%88%E3%83%AB%E3%83%BC%E3%83%ABghost-rule-by-deco27-translation)
> 
> [MMD for Kirai Kirai Jigahidai](http://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm29933930) [translation](http://relmneiko.tumblr.com/post/176871379670/kirai-kirai-jigahidai-akechi-mmd-translation)　(This is the best Akechi MMD ever and you should see it)
> 
> [Luna / Chatruge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dcf-OJTzops) [translation](http://relmneiko.tumblr.com/post/177054148975/lyrics-translation-%E3%82%B7%E3%83%A3%E3%83%AA%E3%83%A5%E3%83%BC%E3%82%B2-chatl%C3%BCge-luna)
> 
> Tell me your song picks for anything Akechi or Akeshu.
> 
> Anyway, there will be a short epilogue after this, and then that's it. Thank you for sticking this far. <3


	7. Epilogue

All the Phantom Thieves, plus Goro, were gathered together in Leblanc to discuss the infiltration of Shido's palace.

For a good twenty minutes, the conversation went on completely normally as they discussed strategy, equipment, and the various enemies they'd encountered inside.

As they were all trying very hard not to address the elephant in the room, Takamaki progressively looked more and more like a balloon on the edge of popping.

Then she popped.

“Are we not gonna talk about what happened?!” She finally burst out from her seat in the booth. She was in the corner, across from Goro, who was backed into the opposite corner with Akira at his side.

“I've been _texting_ you about this constantly, Akira, and you won't tell me squat!” Takamaki glared at him.

“Um, I've kinda been busy...” Akira trailed off.

“Yeah, busy with Akechi's dick,” Futaba muttered from her seat at the bar.

“I'm going to break all the monitoring equipment you have in Leblanc, Futaba,” Akira said, swiftly turning red.

“You know you can't find it all.” Futaba swung her legs and leaned back against the bar. “Besides, don't we have a security threat, here?”

“Goro is not a security threat,” Akira said firmly.

“ _Goro?_ ” Sakamoto hissed from beside Takamaki. “You're on first-name basis with the guy who tried to kill you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

This was not the kind of social situation Goro wanted to be in. Akira hooked his foot over Goro's, out of sight. Somehow, everyone knowing he and Akira were an item was about ten times more embarrassing out in real life than it was when they all had masks on and were exploring fantastical palaces.

“So how do we know we can trust Akechi?” Nijima asked from where she stood beside the booth, arms crossed. At least she was getting this conversation back on track. “I don't think any of us are really clear on just what happened the other day.”

Akira looked at Goro. It seemed he would have to explain himself.

“Agh...” Goro sighed, putting his elbow on the table to partially hide his face and avoid eye contact, and went for the vaguest, most non-revealing statement possible. “I'm sorry for attacking all of you. It was a terrible mistake. We share the same goals, and it was...self-sabotaging and counterproductive for me to do that. I...let my emotions get the better of me. But understand that I want to take Shido down more than any of you do.”

“Uh, I think we all kinda got that much, basically. But that doesn't explain the thing with the personas showing up and blowing up and stuff,” said Sakamoto, very eloquently asking what everyone present was wondering.

Goro folded his arms and looked down at the table. “I have the same ability to summon multiple personas as Akira. I concealed it from all of you to maintain a strategic advantage.” He paused. “Not quite the same as Akira. I could summon more, if I wanted to. But it's very difficult for me. I've avoided it for a long time.”

“You told me before, Akira, that your personas strength comes from your relationships with all of us,” Kitagawa said, from Akira's opposite side. “So would it be the same for Akechi?”

“Yep,” Akira answered briefly.

Goro did not want to be talking about this. “It's not very important where they come from. I can summon multiple personas, and that's what happened.”

“There was definitely some other stuff that happened,” Sakamoto muttered.

Goro just fixed a _shut up shut up_ smile on him.

“But you got new outfits, too!” Takamaki said, and clearly, this was what she really wanted to talk about. “Akira never does that! A new outfit for each persona! That's so cool! Can't you do that, Akira?! Come on!” Her eyes were sparkling as she leaned over the table with deep interest.

Sitting on the table, Morgana piped up. “It's all based on cognition, so if Akira really felt a deep change in himself, he could change his outfit. In fact, I think you all could, if you really believed it. Your outfits are just manifestations of your self-perception, after all.”

“So those outfit changes are like, a manifestation of a different side of yourself?” Takamaki was staring straight at Goro, her eyes attempting to bore into his soul. “The black sentai one was pretty cool, like I'm into that sort of classic villain stuff, but I _really_ liked the one with the corset! You were so gorgeous!”

Now she'd said it. It was over. It was _all over._

Smile plastered on his face, Goro's neck jerked around like he was a rusted mannequin away from Takamaki as he desperately changed the subject. “At any rate, I think we should get back to discussing Shido's palace,” he said smoothly.

Everyone ignored him.

“It was pretty cute,” Okumura, sitting beside Sakamoto, agreed with a little smile hidden behind a hand. “I'm sort of jealous.”

“Right?!” said Takamaki.

“I liked the black sentai one better,” said Futaba.

“The black sentai one has a certain style to it,” Kitagawa agreed, “But aesthetically speaking, the corset outfit is outstanding. The perfect blend of masculine and feminine elem—”

Goro knocked his glass of water over, interrupting Kitagawa. “Whoops. Clumsy me. Does anyone have some napkins?”

“They're literally right beside you, dude,” said Sakamoto, pointing to the dispenser to Goro's right.

“Aha-ha.” Goro could tell his laughter was strained as he mopped up the water in front of him. Did they have to talk about this? _Did they have to talk about this?_

“So what was that persona's name?” Okumura asked suddenly, the very question Goro had wanted nobody to ask.

“Ju—” Goro smacked his hand over Akira's mouth.

Sakamoto smirked. “Dude, are you embarrassed about this? You're totally blushing.”

“Is this really necessary to be talking about?” Goro realized it sounded like he was pleading. Again, everyone ignored him.

“You don't have to be embarrassed because it was a girl,” Takamaki said soothingly. “I mean, Akira's got tons of girl personas.”

“And a giant dick chariot,” Futaba chimed in.

“We don't talk about the dick chariot,” Sakamoto shuddered. “I don't even wanna know what part of your subconscious that one came from, man.”

“...Dick chariot?” Goro asked, lowering his hand from Akira's mouth.

“Yeah,” Akira began, “It's like this giant penis on a—”

“ _We don't talk about the dick chariot,_ ” Sakamoto hissed.

Futaba explained to Goro, “Ryuji's just sensitive about that, 'cause once—”

“No! No dick chariot stories!” Sakamoto slammed his fist on the table.

“Anyway,” Takamaki interrupted. “C'mon, tell us. I know it's kind of revealing, but you know all our personas. You're going to be summoning it anyway. What sort of spells can it use?”

“...Fire spells...poison...healing...” Goro muttered. He was still thinking about that dick chariot.

“Hey, that's a lot like Hecate! We've got something in common! So what's her name?”

Goro stared at the mess of wet napkins on the table. It was true that he was going to be summoning her anyway. Might as well rip this bandaid off now. “...Juliet.”

“Juliet?” Nijima said, hand going to her chin in thought. “As in Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet?_ ”

“Why Juliet?” Sakamoto asked, like an idiot.

“Is it cause you're in _loooove?_ ” Futaba said teasingly, then at the look on Goro's face, added, “Wait. It actually _is_ because of that?!”

Goro buried his face in his hands.

“I think that's really sweet,” said Takamaki. “The power of love incarnate!”

“Can we just...not talk about this?” Goro broke down and begged. Again, he was ignored.

“So when Juliet was summoned and destroyed that other persona, Loki,” Kitagawa said, as if thinking out loud, “That would be, what, a sort of personal turning point? A breaking of one bond to prioritize another? Destroying a part of the self?”

“It was the power of love triumphing over evil, duh,” Futaba said, her tone somewhere between smug and snarky.

“I'm glad the manifestation of my inner turmoil has been entertaining to all of you,” Goro choked.

“Won't that outfit be inconvenient, though?” Nijima said suddenly. “It seemed to me that you were blindfolded. Will you be able to explore the palace like that?”

 _Thank you, Nijima, for getting this conversation back on track._ Goro removed his hands from his face. “Summoning that persona does prevent me from using my own eyes. And though I haven't used it much...I think...I can use it to see through other peoples' eyes, instead.”

“Ohh, that's kinda neat,” Futaba commented. “I can kinda do something similar with Prometheus. But it's less straight through someone's eyes and more like, a sort of floaty awareness near their heads? It's weird.”

Okumura giggled. “That's kind of kinky.”

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“I mean, the blindfold thing,” she clarified.

“Kind of is,” Futaba agreed.

“Blindness could be symbolic of many things,” Kitagawa countered, “But yes, it could also just be erotic.”

Goro was about ready to scream and melt into the floor.

“It's okay,” Takamaki assured him, “My outfit is basically fetish wear, too, and you know, I was embarrassed about it at first, but you get used to it. I'm kind of into it, now.”

“It's not fetish wear!” Goro burst out, unable to control himself.

“Between the corset and the blindfold...” Futaba shrugged. “I mean, the black sentai one was pretty kinky, too. That was an unnecessary amount of belts. Are you into getting tied up, or something?”

Goro buried his face in his hands again and refused to look at anyone. Especially Akira.

“So if Akechi has a Juliet,” Takamaki said, “Then does that mean you have a Romeo, Akira?”

“Actually, yes,” Akira answered.

“What?” Goro's head jerked around.

Akira shrugged. “I wanted a matching set, so I went fishing around through the collective unconscious. It wasn't that hard to find.”

“Personas aren't—personas aren't like couple rings!” Goro sputtered.

“I think that's romantic,” Takamaki said.

Nijima sighed. She looked very fed up with this whole conversation. “Can we get back on track?”

“Yes, please!” Goro agreed vehemently.

“I did want to ask one more thing,” said Nijima. “Can we take it that was you who shot Kunikazu Okumura's shadow inside his palace?”

The lighthearted tone at the table quieted. Now Goro felt uncomfortable for a whole different set of reasons. “...Yes.”

“The circumstances were...not ideal,” Nijima continued, “and we all would have preferred to avoid killing him. But...the reality is that you saved our lives. So for that, I thank you.” She gave the slightest bow.

Goro only felt more uncomfortable. They didn't get why he had done it. He looked at Okumura out of the corner of his eye. She was a hard person to read. She wasn't looking at him. He wasn't sure he'd ever know what she really thought about this. “I've done nothing anyone should be thanking me for.”

“Well then, you can start now,” Akira said, turning to look at him. “Help us with Shido. That's worth a thanks.”

Goro smiled a little bit, and there was sincerity in it. “All right.”

x x x

Goro had a rather strange dream, that night. He wasn't in it—he was sort of hovering disembodied over a field of white flowers, watching two girls sit together in the grass. The older one, the familiar one, was gently braiding the hair of the younger, tucking flowers into her blonde hair as she went.

“You were suppose to die for me,” said the younger girl, smoothing out the folds of her blue dress as she wiggled her toes in the flowers. She'd discarded her mary-janes off to the side. “That's how it works.”

“I keep telling you,” said the older girl, patiently weaving in flowers into the french braid, forced to redo her work every time the younger girl turned her head. “It's better to die _with_ someone than _for_ someone.”

“I don't think that's how it's done...” the blonde girl said with a pout. “I'm _supposed_ to kill them. That's what you do to make friends...but it just doesn't seem to work on you. I tried and tried, but you just wouldn't die for me.”

“I shan't die for you. And if you keep doing that sort of thing, you're going to be terribly lonely.” The older girl tied off the younger's blonde hair and said, “There.”

“I'm not lonely now.” The blonde girl turned around and smiled at her new friend. “Now we both have flowers, Juliet.”

“Yes, I think we look quite the pretty pair, Alice.”

x x x

Goro jerked awake suddenly and saw it was still gray and pre-dawn outside. It seemed he'd woken Akira, too, as he rolled over toward Goro and cracked his eyelids open.

“Sorry,” Goro mumbled, and buried himself further under the blankets. “I just had the strangest dream...”

“Hmmrgh,” Akira made some sleep sounds. “I dunno why, but suddenly, I feel like you'd get along with my doctor...”

Feeling quite confused, Goro fell asleep again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the tonally-dissonant silly epilogue and that pointless, self-indulgent little dream sequence. I just love Alice. Girl needs a friend, man.


End file.
